Exposition? Or the Louisiana Purchase Exposition?"
"No," answered John. "My knowledge was corked up about then."
"Well," continued the man, "there were a good many Incubator Babies at both those expositions, and lots of people saw them. But Chick is the first and only Original Incubator Baby, and so Chick properly belongs in the Isle of Phreex."
Chick jumped up, made a stiff bow, and with eyes sparkling with mischief exclaimed: "I'm six years old and quite strong and well."
"Tut-tut, Chick!" remonstrated the big-headed man; "it was more than two years ago you were taught to make that speech. You can't be always six years old, you know."
The little sprite enjoyed the joke so much that John was forced to laugh in sympathy. But just then a thought struck him, and he asked, a little nervously:
"Do you like gingerbread?"
"I don't know," replied Chick. "Are you gingerbread?"
"I am," said John, bravely.
"Then I like gingerbread," the child declared; "for you smell sweet and look kind and gentle."
John didn't know whether to accept this as a compliment or not. He was sorry to learn that he smelled sweet, although to be called kind and gentle was grateful praise.
"Some folks," he remarked, timidly, "have an idea they like to eat gingerbread."
"I couldn't eat you," the child said, seriously, "because, being the Incubator Baby, I have to be very careful of my diet. You might not agree with me."
"I'm sure I couldn't agree with any one who ate me," John declared. "For, although as yet I have had no experience of that sort, it seems to me a very undesirable fate."
"Very true," remarked the big-headed man.
"Let's be friends!" exclaimed Chick, coming close to John and taking his soft brown hand in a firm clasp. "I'll take care of you."
John looked down at the merry little elf in positive wonder.
"We'll be friends, all right," said he; "but instead of your taking care of me, Chick, I'll take care of you."
"Oh, there you are entirely wrong," broke in the big-headed man. "Chick's a privileged character in the Isle of Phreex, and the only one of us who dares defy our awful kinglet. And in case of danger – "
"Danger!" cried John, with a start. "Is there danger here, too?"
Chick's laughter rang out at the foolish question, but the man replied seriously:
"There is danger everywhere, to those who are unusual, and especially in the Isle of Phreex, where we are at the mercy of a horrid kinglet. But come; we must go and report your arrival to that same graceless ruler, or we shall all be punished."
"Very well," said John, meekly.
But as he took Chick's hand and turned to depart the Fresh-Air Fiend uttered an exclamation of annoyance, and said:
"Here's bad luck already! The Failings are coming this way."
As he spoke a noise of shouting and chattering reached their ears, and presently several people came around a corner of rock and stood before John and his newly found friends.
"It's the Brotherhood of Failings," whispered the big-headed man. "Look out for them, or they'll do you a mischief."
"Don't worry; I'll take care of you," said Chick, pressing the dough hand.
John stared at the new-comers, and they returned the compliment by staring at him. A queerer lot of folks could seldom have been seen together.
"This is the Blunderer," said the Fresh-Air Fiend, indicating a short, fat man who was clothed in glittering armor and bore a lance over his shoulder. The Blunderer acknowledged the introduction by bowing. "And here is the Thoughtless One," continued the man, pointing to a tall, lean man who was clothed in chamois-leather and carried a wide-mouthed blunderbuss under his arm.
"Look out for the gun," said Chick; "he never knows whether or not it is loaded."
"And here are the Disagreeable, and the Unlucky, and the Sorrowful, and the Ugly, and the Awkward," continued the big-headed man, pointing out each Failing in turn. "Their peculiarities you will have no trouble to discover. Indeed, on all the Isle of Phreex, there is no one more unpleasant to meet with than this same lot of Failings."
At this the Brothers all bowed, saying at the same time:
"We are proud of ourselves!"
At that instant the Awkward tripped over his own toes and fell against the Blunderer, who tumbled headlong and thrust his slim lance straight through the body of John Dough.
"Oh!" cried Chick, greatly horrified.
"I told you so!" growled the Fresh-Air Fiend, pulling out the lance hastily. "Tell me, John Dough, are you dead, or are you just dying?"
"Neither one," said John, ruefully pushing together the hole that the lance had made; "but it doesn't add to my personal appearance to be prodded in that fashion. I'm made of gingerbread," he explained, turning to the man in armor.
"I beg your pardon! I really beg your pardon!" said the Blunderer, greatly distressed at what he had done. "I had no intention of hurting you."
"He means well," said the Incubator Baby; "but that doesn't help much."
"He won't last long in this Island," grunted the Bad-Tempered, referring to John Dough.
"Being made of gingerbread, he can't be expected to last," remarked the Disagreeable, smiling in a way that made John shudder.
"He shall have my protection," said the Blunderer. "It's the least I can do to make amends. Here – put on this armour!"
He hastily began stripping off the plates of metal, and placed the steel helmet over the head of the gingerbread man.
"No, no!" exclaimed John. "I don't want to wear all that hardware."
"But you must!" cried the Blunderer. "It's the only way you can escape accident in this awful Island."
"That's true enough," agreed the big-headed man. "I advise you to wear the armor, my gingerbread friend."
So John submitted to being dressed in the armor, and no sooner had the plates been strapped upon him than the wisdom of the act was apparent. For there came a rush and whirl of sound, and suddenly a great monster swept over the sands at the very spot where they stood. It sent the Brotherhood of Failings sprawling in every direction, while the Incubator Baby flew to the water's edge, and John Dough's armor-clad body was knocked down and pressed into the soft sand until it was level with the surface.
But presently Chick came back and made the others dig him out and set him upon his feet again, and then it was seen that no one had been seriously injured.
"What was it?" asked John, gazing in amazement at the place where the monster had disappeared in the distance.
"It's the one-wheeled automobile," answered the Sorrowful, "and unless it gets smashed mighty soon the Isle of Phreex will be an Isle of Cripples. I don't understand why they license the thing."
"Why,
