"Where's the butter, Unc Nunkie?" asked
Ojo.
Unc looked out of the window
and stroked his long beard. Then
he turned to the Munchkin boy
and shook his head.
"Isn't," said
he.
"Isn't any butter? That's too
bad, Unc. Where's the jam then?" inquired
Ojo, standing on a stool so he
could look through all the shelves
of the cupboard. But Unc Nunkie
shook his head again.
"Gone," he
said.
"No jam, either?
And no cake--no jelly--no apples--nothing
but
bread?"
"All," said
Unc, again stroking his beard
as he gazed from the
window.
The little boy brought the
stool and sat be side his uncle,
munching the dry bread slowly
and seeming in deep thought.
"Nothing grows in our yard
but the bread tree," he mused, "and
there are only two more loaves
on that tree; and they're not
ripe yet. Tell me, Unc; why are
we so poor?"
The old Munchkin turned and
looked at Ojo. He had kindly
eyes, but he hadn't smiled or
laughed in so long that the boy
had forgotten that Unc Nunkie
could look any other way than
solemn. And Unc never spoke any
more words than he was obliged
to, so his little nephew, who
lived alone with him, had learned
to understand a great deal from
one word.
"Why are we so poor, Unc?" repeated
the
"Not," said
the old Munchkin.
"I think we are," declared
Ojo. "What have we got?"
"House," said
Unc Nunkie.
"I know; but
everyone in the Land of Oz
has a place to live.
What else, Unc?"
"Bread."
"I'm eating
the last loaf that's ripe.
There; I've put aside your
share, Unc. It's on the table,
so you can eat it when you get
hungry. But when that is gone,
what shall we eat, Unc?"
The old man shifted in his
chair but merely shook his head.
"Of course," said Ojo, who
was obliged to talk because his
uncle would not, "no one starves
in the Land of Oz, either. There
is plenty for everyone, you know;
only, if it isn't just where
you happen to be, you must go
where it is."
The aged Munchkin wriggled
again and stared at his small
nephew as if disturbed by his
argument.
"By tomorrow morning," the
boy went on, we must go where
there is something to eat, or
we shall grow very hungry and
become very unhappy."
"Where?" asked
Unc.
"Where shall we go? I don't
know, I'm sure," replied Ojo. "But
you must know, Unc. You must
have traveled, in your time,
because you're so old. I don't
remember it, because ever since
I could remember anything we've
lived right here in this lonesome,
round house, with a little garden
back of it and the thick woods
all around. All I've ever seen
of the great Land of Oz, Unc
dear, is the view of that mountain
over at the south, where they
say the Hammerheads live--who
won't let anybody go by them--and
that mountain at the north, where
they say nobody lives."
"One," declared
Unc, correcting him.
"Oh, yes; one
family lives there, I've heard.
That's the
Crooked Magician, who is named
Dr. Pipt, and his wife Margolotte.
One year you told me about them;
I think it took you a whole year,
Unc, to say as much as I've just
said about the Crooked Magician
and his wife. They live high
up on the mountain, and the good
Munchkin Country, where the fruits
and flowers grow, is just the
other side. It's funny you and
I should live here all alone,
in the middle of the forest,
Isn't it?"
"Yes," said
Unc.
"Then let's
go away and visit the Munchkin
Country and its
jolly, good-natured people. I'd
love to get a sight of something
besides woods, Unc Nunkie."
"Too little," said
Unc.
"Why, I'm not so little as
I used to be," answered the boy
earnestly. "I think I can walk
as far and as fast through the
woods as you can, Unc. And now
that nothing grows in our back
yard that is good to eat, we
must go where there is food."
Unc Nunkie made no reply for
a time. Then he shut down the
window and turned his chair to
face the room, for the sun was
sinking behind the tree-tops
and it was growing cool.
By and by Ojo lighted the fire
and the logs blazed freely in
the broad fireplace. The two
sat in the firelight a long time--the
old, white- bearded Munchkin
and the little boy. Both were
thinking. When it grew quite
dark out-side, Ojo said:
"Eat your bread,
Unc, and then we will go to
bed."
But Unc Nunkie did not eat
the bread; neither did he go
directly to bed. Long after his
little nephew was sound asleep
in the corner of the room the
old man sat by the fire, thinking.
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