about Ojo in her admiration of the wonderful city she
had entered.

They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who was led by the Soldier
with the Green Whiskers down a side street toward the prison. Ojo felt
very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but he was beginning to
grow angry because he was treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead
of entering the splendid Emerald City as a respectable traveler who was
entitled to a welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought in as a
criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that told all he met of his deep
disgrace.

Ojo was by nature gentle and affectionate and if he had disobeyed the
Law of Oz it was to restore his dear Unc Nunkie to life. His fault was
more thoughtless than wicked, but that did not alter the fact that he
had committed a fault. At first he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the
more he thought about the unjust treatment he had received--unjust
merely because he considered it so--the more he resented his arrest,
blaming Ozma for making foolish laws and then punishing folks who broke
them. Only a six-leaved clover! A tiny green plant growing neglected
and trampled under foot. What harm could there be in picking it? Ojo
began to think Ozma must be a very bad and oppressive Ruler for such a
lovely fairyland as Oz. The Shaggy Man said the people loved her; but
how could they?

The little Munchkin boy was so busy thinking these things--which many
guilty prisoners have thought before him--that he scarcely noticed all
the splendor of the city streets through which they passed. Whenever
they met any of the happy, smiling people, the boy turned his head away
in shame, although none knew who was beneath the robe.

By and by they reached a house built just beside the great city wall,
but in a quiet, retired place. It was a pretty house, neatly painted
and with many windows. Before it was a garden filled with blooming
flowers. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers led Ojo up the gravel path
to the front door, on which he knocked.

A woman opened the door and, seeing Ojo in his white robe, exclaimed:

"Goodness me! A prisoner at last. But what a small one, Soldier."

"The size doesn't matter, Tollydiggle, my dear. The fact remains that
he is a prisoner," said the soldier. "And, this being the prison, and
you the jailer, it is my duty to place the prisoner in your charge."

"True. Come in, then, and I'll give you a receipt for him."

They entered the house an