only one leg. Ha, ha! You see the point, don’t you? If you stand on your legs, and your legs are under you, then—ha, ha, ha!—then your legs are your understanding. Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho! My, but that’s a fine joke. And the stupid Hoppers couldn’t see it! They couldn’t see that with only one leg they must have less understanding than we who have two legs. Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee! Ho, ho!” The Chief wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with the bottom hem of his white robe, and all the other Horners wiped their eyes on their robes, for they had laughed just as heartily as their Chief at the absurd joke.
“Then,” said Scraps, “their understanding of the understanding you meant led to the misunderstanding.”
“Exactly; and so there’s no need for us to apologize,” returned the Chief.
“No need for an apology, perhaps, but much need for an explanation,” said Scraps decidedly. “You don’t want war, do you?”
“Not if we can help it,” admitted Jak Horner. “The question is, who’s going to explain the joke to the Horners? You know it spoils any joke to be obliged to explain it, and this is the best joke I ever heard.”
“Who made the joke?” asked Scraps.
“Diksey Horner. He is working in the mines, just now, but he’ll be home before long. Suppose we wait and talk with him about it? Maybe he’ll be willing to explain his joke to the Hoppers.”
“All right,” said Scraps. “I’ll wait, if Diksey isn’t too long.”
“No, he’s short; he’s shorter than I am. Ha, ha, ha! Say! that’s a better joke than Diksey’s. He won’t be too long, because he’s short. Hee, hee, ho!”
The other Horners who were standing by roared with laughter and seemed to like their Chief’s joke as much as he did. Scraps thought it was odd that they could be so easily amused, but decided there could be little harm in people who laughed so merrily.
23. Peace Is Declared
“Come with me to my dwelling and I’ll introduce you to my daughters,” said the Chief. “We’re bringing them up according to a book of rules that was written by one of our leading old bachelors, and everyone says they’re a remarkable lot of girls.”
So Scraps accompanied him along the street to a house that seemed on the outside exceptionally grimy and dingy. The streets of this city were not paved nor had any attempt been made to beautify the houses or their surroundings, and having noticed this condition Scraps was astonished when the Chief ushered her into his home.
Here was nothing grimy or faded, indeed. On the contrary, the room was of dazzling brilliance and beauty, for it was lined throughout with an exquisite metal that resembled translucent frosted silver. The surface of this metal was highly ornamented in raised designs representing men, animals, flowers and trees, and from the metal itself was radiated the soft light which flooded the room. All the furniture was made of the same glorious metal, and Scraps asked what it was.
“That’s radium,” answered the Chief. “We Horners spend all our time digging radium from the mines under this mountain, and we use it to decorate our homes and make them pretty and cosy. It is a medicine, too, and no one can ever be sick who lives near radium.”
“Have you plenty of it?” asked the Patchwork Girl.
“More than we can use. All the houses in this city are decorated with it, just the same as mine is.”
“Why don’t you use it on your streets, then, and the outside of your houses, to make them as pretty as they are within?” she inquired.
“Outside? Who cares for the outside of anything?” asked the Chief. “We Horners don’t live on the outside of our homes; we live inside. Many people are like those stupid Hoppers, who love to make an outside show. I suppose you strangers thought their city more beautiful than ours, because you judged from appearances and they have handsome marble houses and marble streets; but if you entered one of their stiff dwellings you would find it bare and uncomfortable, as all their show is on the outside. They have an idea that what is not seen by others is not important, but with us the rooms we live in are our chief delight and care, and we pay no attention to outside show.”
“Seems to me,” said Scraps, musingly, “it would be better to make it all pretty—inside and out.”
“Seems? Why, you’re all seams, my girl!” said the Chief; and then he laughed heartily at his latest joke and a chorus of small voices echoed the chorus with “tee-hee-hee! ha, ha!”
Scraps turned around and found a row of girls seated in radium chairs ranged along one wall of the room. There were nineteen of them, by actual count, and they were of all sizes from a tiny child to one almost a grown woman. All were neatly dressed in spotless white robes and had brown skins, horns on their foreheads and three-colored hair.
“These,” said the Chief, “are my sweet daughters. My dears, I introduce to you Miss Scraps Patchwork, a lady who is traveling in foreign parts to increase her store of wisdom.”
The nineteen Horner girls all arose and made a polite curtsey, after which they resumed their seats and rearranged their robes properly.
“Why do they sit so still, and all in a row?” asked Scraps.
“Because it is ladylike and proper,” replied the Chief.
“But some are just children, poor things! Don’t they ever run around and play and laugh, and have a good time?”
“No, indeed,” said the Chief. “That would be improper in young ladies, as well as in those who will sometime become young ladies. My daughters are being brought up according to the rules and regulations laid down by a leading bachelor who has given the subject much study and is himself a man of taste and culture. Politeness is his great hobby, and he claims that if a child is allowed to do an impolite thing one cannot expect the grown person to do anything better.”
“Is it impolite to romp and shout and be jolly?” asked Scraps.
“Well, sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t,” replied the Horner, after considering the question. “By curbing such inclinations in my daughters we keep on the safe side. Once in a while I make a good joke, as you have heard, and then I permit my daughters to laugh decorously; but they are never allowed to make a joke themselves.”
“That old bachelor who made the rules ought to be skinned alive!” declared Scraps, and would have said more on the subject had not the door opened to admit a little Horner man whom the Chief introduced as Diksey.
“What’s up, Chief?” asked Diksey, winking nineteen times at the nineteen girls, who demurely cast down their eyes because their father was looking.
The Chief told the man that his joke had not been understood by the dull Hoppers, who had become so angry that they had declared war. So the only way to avoid a terrible battle was to explain the joke so they could understand it.
“All right,” replied Diksey, who seemed a good-natured man; “I’ll go at once to the fence and explain. I don’t want any war with the Hoppers, for wars between nations always cause hard feelings.”
