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Updated: May 24, 2025
The woman was Izz Huett, whose interest in Tess's excursion immediately superseded her own proceedings. Tess did not explain very clearly its results, and Izz, who was a girl of tact, began to speak of her own little affair, a phase of which Tess had just witnessed. "He is Amby Seedling, the chap who used to sometimes come and help at Talbothays," she explained indifferently.
"For my part," added the Tin Woodman, "I cannot express my joy that my lovely tin castle is not to be demolished by wicked enemies." "Still," said Tiktok, "o-ther en-e-mies may come to Oz some day." "Why do you allow your clock-work brains to interrupt our joy?" asked Omby Amby, frowning at the machine man. "I say what I am wound up to say," answered Tiktok. "And you are right," declared Ozma.
On concluding, he winked again at old Ned, and touched his pocket as before. "Mr. Amby, be quiet," said Ned, rather complacently though, "an' let daicent Mrs. Mulroony go on."
I ought to know more or less about Amby for we had him here in the general offices for quite some time, tryin' to discover if there wasn't some sphere of usefulness that would excuse us handin' him a pay envelope once a week. There wasn't. Course, we didn't try him as a paper weight or a door stop. But he had a whirl at almost everything else. And the result was a total loss.
She had also found the other eye and the ear by the time Omby Amby in a far corner discovered the mouth. When the face was thus completed, all the parts joined together with a nicety that was astonishing. "Why, it's like a picture puzzle!" exclaimed the little girl. "Let's find the rest of him, and get him all together." "What's the rest of him like?" asked the Wizard.
"When I was a private," said Omby Amby, "I was an excellent army, as I fully proved in our war against the Nomes. But now there is not a single private left in our army, since Ozma made me the Captain General, so there is no one to fight and defend our lovely Ruler." "True," said the Wizard.
Only I have to be in El Placida to draw my pay." "But you made good, did you?" I asks. "I did as long as Senor Alvarado was around to back me up," says Amby, "but when he slides down to the city for a week's business trip and turns me over to that Scotch superintendent of his the going got kind of rough. Mr. McNutt sends me out with a flivver to buy wool around the country. Looked easy.
I've put away so much of that sweet slush now that I'll be bilious for a week. But say, Torchy, honest to goodness, is Broadway like this all the time now?" "No," says I. "They're goin' to have a Y.W.C.A. convention here next week and I expect that'll stir things up quite a bit." "Sorry," says Amby, "but I shan't be here." "No?" says I. "Pos-i-tively," says Ambrose.
Amby and 'Chita splurged on a cafe parfait and a grape juice rickey. Other dissipated couples at nearby tables were indulgin' in canapes of caviar and frosted sarsaparillas. But shortly after midnight the giddy revellers begun to thin out and the girl waiters got yawny. "How about a round of strawb'ry ice cream sodas; eh, Amby?" I suggests. "No," says he, "I'm no high school girl.
"Oh, yes," replied the Tin Woodman, "I believe there are three, altogether." The private now entered, saluting his officers and the royal Ozma very respectfully. "What is your name, my man?" asked the girl. "Omby Amby," answered the private.
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