, and that the dreams
had been so real to her that she had come to believe them true.

Whatever the explanation might be, it was certain that Dorothy had been
absent from her Kansas home for several long periods, always
disappearing unexpectedly, yet always coming back safe and sound, with
amazing tales of where she had been and the unusual people she had met.
Her uncle and aunt listened to her stories eagerly and in spite of
their doubts began to feel that the little girl had gained a lot of
experience and wisdom that were unaccountable in this age, when fairies
are supposed no longer to exist.

Most of Dorothy's stories were about the Land of Oz, with its beautiful
Emerald City and a lovely girl Ruler named Ozma, who was the most
faithful friend of the little Kansas girl. When Dorothy told about the
riches of this fairy country Uncle Henry would sigh, for he knew that a
single one of the great emeralds that were so common there would pay
all his debts and leave his farm free. But Dorothy never brought any
jewels home with her, so their poverty became greater every year.

When the banker told Uncle Henry that he must pay the money in thirty
days or leave the farm, the poor man was in despair, as he knew he
could not possibly get the money. So he told his wife, Aunt Em, of his
trouble, and she first cried a little and then said that they must be
brave and do the best they could, and go away somewhere and try to earn
an honest living. But they were getting old and feeble and she feared
that they could not take care of Dorothy as well as they had formerly
done. Probably the little girl would also be obliged to go to work.

They did not tell their niece the sad news for several days, not
wishing to make her unhappy; but one morning the little girl found Aunt
Em softly crying while Uncle Henry tried to comfort her. Then Dorothy
asked them to tell her what was the matter.

"We must give up the farm, my dear," replied her uncle sadly, "and
wander away into the world to work for our living."

The girl listened quite seriously, for she had not known before how
desperately poor they were.

"We don't mind for ourselves," said her aunt, stroking the little
girl's head tenderly; "but we love you as if you were our own child,
and we are heart-broken to think that you must also endure poverty, and
work for a living before you have grown big and strong."

"What could I do to earn money?" asked Dorothy.

"You might do h