er of Life, my dear," she said to her
husband. But the Magician replied:

"This powder must not be used before to-morrow morning; but I think it
is now cool enough to be bottled."

He selected a small gold bottle with a pepper-box top, so that the
powder might be sprinkled on any object through the small holes. Very
carefully he placed the Powder of Life in the gold bottle and then
locked it up in a drawer of his cabinet.

"At last," said he, rubbing his hands together gleefully, "I have ample
leisure for a good talk with my old friend Unc Nunkie. So let us sit
down cosily and enjoy ourselves. After stirring those four kettles for
six years I am glad to have a little rest."

"You will have to do most of the talking," said Ojo, "for Unc is called
the Silent One and uses few words."

"I know; but that renders your uncle a most agreeable companion and
gossip," declared Dr. Pipt. "Most people talk too much, so it is a
relief to find one who talks too little."

Ojo looked at the Magician with much awe and curiosity.

"Don't you find it very annoying to be so crooked?" he asked.

"No; I am quite proud of my person," was the reply. "I suppose I am the
only Crooked Magician in all the world. Some others are accused of being
crooked, but I am the only genuine."

He was really very crooked and Ojo wondered how he managed to do so many
things with such a twisted body. When he sat down upon a crooked chair
that had been made to fit him, one knee was under his chin and the other
near the small of his back; but he was a cheerful man and his face bore
a pleasant and agreeable expression.

"I am not allowed to perform magic, except for my own amusement," he
told his visitors, as he lighted a pipe with a crooked stem and began to
smoke. "Too many people were working magic in the Land of Oz, and so our
lovely Princess Ozma put a stop to it. I think she was quite right.
There were several wicked Witches who caused a lot of trouble; but now
they are all out of business and only the great Sorceress, Glinda the
Good, is permitted to practice her arts, which never harm anybody. The
Wizard of Oz, who used to be a humbug and knew no magic at all, has been
taking lessons of Glinda, and I'm told he is getting to be a pretty good
Wizard; but he is merely the assistant of the great Sorceress. I've the
right to make a servant girl for my wife, you know, or a Glass Cat to
catch our mice--which she refuses to do--but I am forbidden to work