we’re all ready to go,” said the Shaggy Man, putting his fingers to his ears to shut out the monotonous babble of those around the wagon.
So the Wizard spoke to the Sawhorse, who trotted nimbly through the village and soon gained the open country on the other side of it. Dorothy looked back, as they rode away, and noticed that the woman had not yet finished her speech but was talking as glibly as ever, although no one was near to hear her.
“If those people wrote books,” Omby Amby remarked with a smile, “it would take a whole library to say the cow jumped over the moon.”
“Perhaps some of ‘em do write books,” asserted the little Wizard. “I’ve read a few rigmaroles that might have come from this very town.”
“Some of the college lecturers and ministers are certainly related to these people,” observed the Shaggy Man; “and it seems to me the Land of Oz is a little ahead of the United States in some of its laws. For here, if one can’t talk clearly, and straight to the point, they send him to Rigmarole Town; while Uncle Sam lets him roam around wild and free, to torture innocent people.”
Dorothy was thoughtful. The Rigmaroles had made a strong impression upon her. She decided that whenever she spoke, after this, she would use only enough words to express what she wanted to say.
23. How They Encountered the Flutterbudgets
They were soon among the pretty hills and valleys again, and the Sawhorse sped up hill and down at a fast and easy pace, the roads being hard and smooth. Mile after mile was speedily covered, and before the ride had grown at all tiresome they sighted another village. The place seemed even larger than Rigmarole Town, but was not so attractive in appearance.
“This must be Flutterbudget Center,” declared the Wizard. “You see, it’s no trouble at all to find places if you keep to the right road.”
“What are the Flutterbudgets like?” inquired Dorothy.
“I do not know, my dear. But Ozma has given them a town all their own, and I’ve heard that whenever one of the people becomes a Flutterbudget he is sent to this place to live.”
“That is true,” Omby Amby added; “Flutterbudget Center and Rigmarole Town are called ‘the Defensive Settlements of Oz.’”
The village they now approached was not built in a valley, but on top of a hill, and the road they followed wound around the hill, like a corkscrew, ascending the hill easily until it came to the town.
“Look out!” screamed a voice. “Look out, or you’ll run over my child!”
They gazed around and saw a woman standing upon the sidewalk nervously wringing her hands as she gazed at them appealingly.
“Where is your child?” asked the Sawhorse.
“In the house,” said the woman, bursting into tears; “but if it should happen to be in the road, and you ran over it, those great wheels would crush my darling to jelly. Oh dear! oh dear! Think of my darling child being crushed into jelly by those great wheels!”
“Gid-dap!” said the Wizard sharply, and the Sawhorse started on.
They had not gone far before a man ran out of a house shouting wildly, “Help! Help!”
The Sawhorse stopped short and the Wizard and Uncle Henry and the Shaggy Man and Omby Amby jumped out of the wagon and ran to the poor man’s assistance. Dorothy followed them as quickly as she could.
“What’s the matter?” asked the Wizard.
“Help! help!” screamed the man; “my wife has cut her finger off and she’s bleeding to death!”
Then he turned and rushed back to the house, and all the party went with him. They found a woman in the front dooryard moaning and groaning as if in great pain.
“Be brave, madam!” said the Wizard, consolingly. “You won’t die just because you have cut off a finger, you may be sure.”
“But I haven’t cut off a finger!” she sobbed.
“Then what HAS happened?” asked Dorothy.
“I—I pricked my finger with a needle while I was sewing, and—and the blood came!” she replied. “And now I’ll have blood-poisoning, and the doctors will cut off my finger, and that will give me a fever and I shall die!”
“Pshaw!” said Dorothy; “I’ve pricked my finger many a time, and nothing happened.”
“Really?” asked the woman, brightening and wiping her eyes upon her apron.
“Why, it’s nothing at all,” declared the girl. “You’re more scared than hurt.”
“Ah, that’s because she’s a Flutterbudget,” said the Wizard, nodding wisely. “I think I know now what these people are like.”
“So do I,” announced Dorothy.
“Oh, boo-hoo-hoo!” sobbed the woman, giving way to a fresh burst of grief.
“What’s wrong now?” asked the Shaggy Man.
“Oh, suppose I had pricked my foot!” she wailed. “Then the doctors would have cut my foot off, and I’d be lamed for life!”
“Surely, ma’am,” replied the Wizard, “and if you’d pricked your nose they might cut your head off. But you see you didn’t.”
“But I might have!” she exclaimed, and began to cry again. So they left her and drove away in their wagon. And her husband came out and began calling “Help!” as he had before; but no one seemed to pay any attention to him.
As the travelers turned into another street they found a man walking excitedly up and down the pavement. He appeared to be in a very nervous condition and the Wizard stopped him to ask:
“Is anything wrong, sir?”
“Everything is wrong,” answered the man, dismally. “I can’t sleep.”
“Why not?” inquired Omby Amby.
“If I go to sleep I’ll have to shut my eyes,” he explained; “and if I shut my eyes they may grow together, and then I’d be blind for life!”
“Did you ever hear of any one’s eyes growing together?” asked Dorothy.
“No,” said the man, “I never did. But it would be a dreadful thing, wouldn’t it? And the thought of it makes me so nervous I’m afraid to go to sleep.”
“There’s no help for this case,” declared the Wizard; and they went on.
At the next street corner a woman rushed up to them crying:
“Save my baby! Oh, good, kind people, save my baby!”
“Is
