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League game, part II
Dorothy's letter home, continued.
(Part One)
Well, there was a week I spent in a little apartment well away from the asylum, with books and doors that closed and room for Toto. He was dreadfully cranky when they brought him in, poor thing -- they hadn't brushed him or given him room to run around, and the other dogs had given him fleas! I don't think the kennel was good for him at all, nor 'sociating with those common dogs; he's picked up dreadful manners somehow. (Toto is now looking up at me sorrowfully and telling me that he's sorry, and it wasn't his fault. And it wasn't, so we'll say no more about that for now.)
At the end of the week -- at least I believe it was a week; it's awfully hard to keep track of days without a clock or calendar, you know, and the apartment had no windows, which was the only unpleasant thing about it -- at the end of the week, they came back to fetch me out. I took Toto with me, and I wore the Magic Belt and the little pouch of jewels you gave me to trade for money while we were here in the Outside World. They'd given me all my things back, you see, when they got me out of the asylum; and I didn't want to chance losing them again.
We went through an underground passageway, a little like the ways through the Nome Kingdom, and came out in a room with a great long table down the middle and framed photographs all down the walls. They told me to take a seat and wait there, and then they left.
I took a look at the photographs first. They were all of groups of men and women looking all stern and serious, and each one had a little plaque reading "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" and a year. The queer thing was that one of the gentlemen in one picture looked a lot like the Wizard -- only ever so much younger. It gave me a funny, hurtful feeling, seeing that; it was as though I'd found the Wizard again, but he couldn't see me and didn't know I was there.
They came back in then, and when I asked about the picture they only told me to take a seat and wait. Grown-ups in the Outside World do this a lot, and it's dreadfully tiresome: if they don't want to answer a question, they'll ignore it and tell you to do something, and then you have to do it instead of asking your question again.
I sat down and held Toto in my lap, and that's when the others started coming in. I didn't know their names then, but I'll tell you here anyway.
There was Mr. Tom Swift -- he's an inventor. Mr. Peter Wimsey, who's an English lord; he wears a monocle like Professor Wogglebug and he bowed to me when we introduced ourselves. Miss Mary Poppins, the team leader (and also supposed to look after me). Mr. Lamont Cranston, who didn't look happy to be here; he's also called The Shadow. Mr. Hugo Danner, who looked like the circus strongman I saw once in Kansas -- and turned out to be even stronger. And Mr. Frank Preston, who's a mounted police officer from Canada and had a great handsome dog named Yukon Prince. (He told me later that Prince is half wolf, but he was a perfectly gentle and well-behaved dog at any rate.)
So they were all coming in and sitting down at the table, and then the astonishing thing happened. Miss Poppins started talking to Toto. Not the way ordinary people in the Outside World talk to dogs, but the way people in Oz talk to animals, knowing they understand and might talk back.
"Are you from a fairy country?" I asked her.
She smiled at me -- such a warm, sweet, sad smile that I suddenly wanted to curl up next to her and let her hold me the way Aunt Em used to -- and said gently: "Yes ... but not from yours, dear. Not from yours."
Well, there were suddenly a thousand questions I wanted to ask her, as I'm sure you can guess, Ozma. But just then in came Jay, the man who seemed to be in charge of the whole thing, so we all had to be quiet and pay attention.
(Part One)
Well, there was a week I spent in a little apartment well away from the asylum, with books and doors that closed and room for Toto. He was dreadfully cranky when they brought him in, poor thing -- they hadn't brushed him or given him room to run around, and the other dogs had given him fleas! I don't think the kennel was good for him at all, nor 'sociating with those common dogs; he's picked up dreadful manners somehow. (Toto is now looking up at me sorrowfully and telling me that he's sorry, and it wasn't his fault. And it wasn't, so we'll say no more about that for now.)
At the end of the week -- at least I believe it was a week; it's awfully hard to keep track of days without a clock or calendar, you know, and the apartment had no windows, which was the only unpleasant thing about it -- at the end of the week, they came back to fetch me out. I took Toto with me, and I wore the Magic Belt and the little pouch of jewels you gave me to trade for money while we were here in the Outside World. They'd given me all my things back, you see, when they got me out of the asylum; and I didn't want to chance losing them again.
We went through an underground passageway, a little like the ways through the Nome Kingdom, and came out in a room with a great long table down the middle and framed photographs all down the walls. They told me to take a seat and wait there, and then they left.
I took a look at the photographs first. They were all of groups of men and women looking all stern and serious, and each one had a little plaque reading "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" and a year. The queer thing was that one of the gentlemen in one picture looked a lot like the Wizard -- only ever so much younger. It gave me a funny, hurtful feeling, seeing that; it was as though I'd found the Wizard again, but he couldn't see me and didn't know I was there.
They came back in then, and when I asked about the picture they only told me to take a seat and wait. Grown-ups in the Outside World do this a lot, and it's dreadfully tiresome: if they don't want to answer a question, they'll ignore it and tell you to do something, and then you have to do it instead of asking your question again.
I sat down and held Toto in my lap, and that's when the others started coming in. I didn't know their names then, but I'll tell you here anyway.
There was Mr. Tom Swift -- he's an inventor. Mr. Peter Wimsey, who's an English lord; he wears a monocle like Professor Wogglebug and he bowed to me when we introduced ourselves. Miss Mary Poppins, the team leader (and also supposed to look after me). Mr. Lamont Cranston, who didn't look happy to be here; he's also called The Shadow. Mr. Hugo Danner, who looked like the circus strongman I saw once in Kansas -- and turned out to be even stronger. And Mr. Frank Preston, who's a mounted police officer from Canada and had a great handsome dog named Yukon Prince. (He told me later that Prince is half wolf, but he was a perfectly gentle and well-behaved dog at any rate.)
So they were all coming in and sitting down at the table, and then the astonishing thing happened. Miss Poppins started talking to Toto. Not the way ordinary people in the Outside World talk to dogs, but the way people in Oz talk to animals, knowing they understand and might talk back.
"Are you from a fairy country?" I asked her.
She smiled at me -- such a warm, sweet, sad smile that I suddenly wanted to curl up next to her and let her hold me the way Aunt Em used to -- and said gently: "Yes ... but not from yours, dear. Not from yours."
Well, there were suddenly a thousand questions I wanted to ask her, as I'm sure you can guess, Ozma. But just then in came Jay, the man who seemed to be in charge of the whole thing, so we all had to be quiet and pay attention.
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By all means, please keep writing this letter. I want to know what happens next.