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Charles I. read Cassandra in prison, while we find Dorothy Osborne, in her exquisite letters to Sir William Temple, assiduously studying one heroic novel after another through the central years of Cromwell's rule. She reads Le Grand Cyrus while she has the ague; she desires Temple to tell her "which amant you have most compassion for, when you have read what each one says for himself."
So he's probably taken the Bag with him, and you won't see it again unless you find the Magician." "That sounds reasonable," remarked the Lamb, which was Dorothy. "Those pink brains of yours seem to be working pretty well to-day." "If the Glass Cat is right," said the Wizard in a solemn voice, "there's more trouble ahead of us.
As she finished speaking, slow, dreamy music began on the piano and the curtains were pulled apart, disclosing a pedestal on which stood Dorothy in a flowing Greek robe and with her golden hair dressed in classic fashion.
Dorothy stood a little apart, watching us, her eyes that faraway blue of the deepening skies at twilight. "Indeed, I have no fear of him, captain," she said gently. Then, with a quick movement, impulsive and womanly, she unpinned a little gold brooch at her throat, and gave it to him, saying: "In token of my gratitude for bringing him back to us." John Paul raised it to his lips.
"Have you got much acquainted with Arthur yet?" asked Dorothy, who was busily mixing the ingredients for the candy. "Haven't seen him since the day I came," answered Ruth, looking at Betty with a twinkle in her eye, "and I certainly didn't get very well acquainted with him then."
Instantly the order was obeyed; the opening appeared and the passage lay plainly before them. The King was amazed, and all the others overjoyed. "Why, then, if the belt obeys you, were we unable to discover the Tin Woodman?" asked Ozma. "I can't imagine," said Dorothy.
Remarking, at length, that she looked weary, she sent her away to be mistress of her time till supper, at half-past five. Weary in truth with her journey, but still more weary from the multitude and variety of objects, the talk, and the constant demand of the general strangeness upon her attention and one form or other of suitable response, Dorothy sought her chamber.
But there are also 'The Voiceless, 'My Aviary, written at this window, 'The Battle of Bunker Hill, and 'Dorothy Q, written to the portrait of my great-grandmother which you see on the wall there. All these I have a liking for, and when I speak of the poems I like best there are two others that ought to be included 'The Silent Melody' and 'The Last Leaf. I think these are among my best."
Then he stooped and gathered a few fragments of insignificant stone, while Dorothy watched him wondering. Presently the hunter looked up his face transformed the brilliancy of youth restored to his faded eyes. "Silver! by gum! And and all the land this side that shack belongs to San Leon! Of all the dum luck Let's go home! Let's go home!" He couldn't move fast enough.
I do not know how long I sat there; but it may have been half an hour. I sat like a dazed man; for I had had no sleep, and what I had seen drove away all desire for it. I sat there, staring, and pondering round and round in circles, like a wheel turning. Now it was of Dorothy; now of the Jesuits; now of His Majesty and Mr.
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