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Updated: May 28, 2025
Never had our friend the Woggle-Bug seen such a beautiful gown before, and it afflicted him so strongly that he straightaway fell in love with the entire outfit even to the wax-complexioned lady herself! Very politely he tipped his to her; but she stared coldly back without in any way acknowledging the courtesy.
"Meb-la-che-bah!" shouted the biggest Arab, and at once two others wound coils of rope around the Woggle-Bug and tied the ends in hard knots. "Very good!" said the Shiek, eyeing the plaids with pleasure. "My slaves shall make me a new waistcoat of this cloth."
Beetle," said she, with merry laughter. "Do not, I beg of you, call me a beetle," exclaimed our hero, rather peevishly; "for I am actually a Woggle-Bug, and Highly-Magnified at that!" "What's in a name?" laughed the gay damsel. "Come, let me introduce you to our jungle, where strangers of good breeding are always welcome."
Presently they came to a tall hedge surrounding the Inner Jungle, and without this hedge stood a patrol of brown bears who wore red soldier-caps and carried gold-plated muskets in their hands. "We call this the bearier," said Miss Chim, pointing to the soldiers, "because they oblige all strangers to paws." "I should think it was a bearicade," remarked the Woggle-Bug.
Again the Woggle-Bug reluctantly abandoned a dollar; but the end was not yet. The dear children wanted candy and nuts; and then they warned pink lemonade; and then pop-corn and chewing-gum; and always the Woggle-Bug, after a glance at the entrancing costume, found himself unable to resist paying for the treat. It was nearly evening when the widow pleaded fatigue and asked to be taken home.
But when they approached the gateway the officer in charge saluted respectfully to Miss Chim, and permitted her to escort the Woggle-Bug into the sacred precincts of the Inner Jungle. Here his eyes were soon opened to their widest capacity in genuine astonishment. The Jungle was as clean and as well-regulated as any city of men the Insect had ever visited.
"I don't remember that building," said Dorothy. "What is it?" "That is the College of Art and Athletic Perfection," replied Ozma. "I had it built quite recently, and the Woggle-Bug is its president. It keeps him busy, and the young men who attend the college are no worse off than they were before.
"I think we need to stop his wicked deeds as soon as we possibly can. We can't let him get to Dorothy, you know. Nor the Scarecrow or the Tin Woodman or the Woggle-Bug. No one is safe as long as the Forest Monster is at large." "You're right!" said the Cowardly Lion dutifully. "We are the only ones who can stop him. Where is this overgrown daddy long legs?"
Yet the Woggle-Bug did not suspect this, and being, like so many other thoroughly educated persons, proud of his mental attainments, he marched along the street with an air of importance that made one wonder what great thoughts were occupying his massive brain.
But the Woggle-Bug had the strength of many men, and when he flopped the big wings that were concealed by the tails of his coat, the gentlemen resting upon him were scattered like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. The Insect stood up, rearranged his dress, and looked about him. Bridget had run away and gone home, and the others were still fighting amongst themselves with exceeding cheerfulness.
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