Chapter Twenty-Three

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.”

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

threecolored 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 he

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.”

So the Chief and Diksey and Scraps left the

house and went back to the marble picket fence.

The Scarecrow was still stuck on the top of his

picket but had now ceased to struggle. On the

other side of the fence were Dorothy and Ojo,

looking between the pickets; and there, also,

were the Champion and many other Hoppers.

Diksey went close to the fence and said:

“My good Hoppers, I wish to explain that

what I said about you was a joke. You have but

one leg each, and we have two legs each. Our

legs are under us, whether one or two, and we

stand on them. So, when I said you had less

understanding than we, I did not mean that you

had less understanding, you understand, but

that you had less standundering, so to speak.

Do you understand that?”

The Hoppers thought it over carefully. Then one

said:

“That is clear enough; but where does the joke

come in?’”

Dorothy laughed, for she couldn’t help it,

although all the others were solemn enough.

“I’ll tell you where the joke comes in,” she

said, and took the Hoppers away to a distance,

where the Horners could not hear them. “You know,”

she then explained, “those neighbors of yours are

not very bright, poor things, and what they think

is a joke isn’t a joke at all—it’s true, don’t

you see?”

“True that we have less understanding?” asked

the Champion.

“Yes; it’s true because you don’t understand

such a poor joke; if you did, you’d be no wiser

than they are.”

“Ah, yes; of course,” they answered, looking

very wise.

“So I’ll tell you what to do,” continued

Dorothy. “Laugh at their poor joke and tell ‘em

it’s pretty good for a Horner. Then they won’t

dare say you have less understanding, because you

understand as much as they do.”

The Hoppers looked at one another questioningly

and blinked their eyes and tried to think what it

all meant; but they couldn’t figure it out.

“What do you think, Champion?” asked one of

them.

“I think it is dangerous to think of this thing

any more than we can help,” he replied. “Let us do

as this girl says and laugh with the Horners, so

as to make them believe we see the joke. Then

there will be peace again and no need to fight.”

They readily agreed to this and returned to

the fence laughing as loud and as hard as they

could, although they didn’t feel like laughing

a bit. The Horners were much surprised.

“That’s a fine joke—for a Horner—and we are

much pleased with it,” said the Champion, speaking

between the pickets. “But please don’t do it

again.”

“I won’t,” promised Diksey. “If I think of

another such joke I’ll try to forget it.”

“Good!” cried the Chief Horner. “The war is over

and peace is declared.”

There was much joyful shouting on both sides of

the fence and the gate was unlocked and thrown

wide open, so that Scraps was able to rejoin her

friends.

“What about the Scarecrow?” she asked Dorothy.

“We must get him down, somehow or other,” was

the reply.

“Perhaps the Horners can find a way,” suggested

Ojo. So they all went through the gate and Dorothy

asked the Chief Horner how they could get the

Scarecrow off the fence. The Chief didn’t know

how, but Diksey said:

“A ladder’s the thing.”

“Have you one?” asked Dorothy.

“To be sure. We use ladders in our mines,”

said he. Then he ran away to get the ladder,

and while he was gone the Horners gathered

around and welcomed the strangers to their

country, for through them a great war had been

avoided.

In a little while Diksey came back with a

tall ladder which he placed against the fence. Ojo

at once climbed to the top of the ladder and

Dorothy went about halfway up and Scraps stood at

the foot of it. Toto ran around it and barked.

Then Ojo pulled the Scarecrow away from the picket

and passed him down to Dorothy, who in turn

lowered him to the Patchwork Girl.

As soon as he was on his feet and standing

on solid ground the Scarecrow said:

“Much obliged. I feel much better. I’m not

stuck on that picket any more.”

The Horners began to laugh, thinking this

was a joke, but the Scarecrow shook himself and

patted his straw a little and said to Dorothy:

“Is there much of a hole in my back?”

The little girl examined him carefully.

“There’s quite a hole,” she said. “But I’ve got

a needle and thread in the knapsack and I’ll sew

you up again.”

“Do so,” he begged earnestly, and again the

Hoppers laughed, to the Scarecrow’s great

annoyance.

While Dorothy was sewing up the hole in

the straw man’s back Scraps examined the other

parts of him.

“One of his legs is ripped, too!” she exclaimed.

“Oho!” cried little Diksey; “that’s bad. Give

him the needle and thread and let him mend

his ways.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Chief, and the

other Homers at once roared with laughter.

“What’s funny?” inquired the Scarecrow sternly.

“Don’t you see?” asked Diksey, who had

laughed even harder than the others. “That’s a

joke. It’s by odds the best joke I ever made.

You walk with your legs, and so that’s the way

you walk, and your legs are the ways. See? So,

when you mend your legs, you mend your ways.

Ho, ho, ho! hee, hee! I’d no idea I could make

such a fine joke!”

“Just wonderful!” echoed the Chief. “How do you

manage to do it, Diksey?”

“I don’t know,” said Diksey modestly. “Perhaps

it’s the radium, but I rather think it’s my

splendid intellect.”

If you don’t quit it,” the Scarecrow told him,

“there’ll be a worse war than the one you’ve

escaped from.”

Ojo had been deep in thought, and now he

asked the Chief: “Is there a dark well in any

part of your country?”

“A dark well? None that ever I heard of,” was

the answer.

“Oh, yes,” said Diksey, who overheard the

boy’s question. “There’s a very dark well down

in my radium mine.”

“Is there any water in it?” Ojo eagerly asked.

“Can’t say; I’ve never looked to see. But we

can find out.”

So, as soon as the Scarecrow was mended,

they decided to go with Diksey to the mine.

When Dorothy had patted the straw man into

shape again he declared he felt as good as new

and equal to further adventures.

“Still,” said he, “I prefer not to do picket

duty again. High life doesn’t seem to agree with

my constitution.” And then they hurried away

to escape the laughter of the Homers, who

thought this was another joke.