.

"Except me," said the Patchwork Girl, jumping up to whirl merrily
around the room.

"I think," said Ojo, almost ready to cry through grief over Unc
Nunkie's sad fate, "it must all be my fault, in some way. I'm called
Ojo the Unlucky, you know."

"That's nonsense, kiddie," retorted the Patchwork Girl cheerfully. "No
one can be unlucky who has the intelligence to direct his own actions.
The unlucky ones are those who beg for a chance to think, like poor Dr.
Pipt here. What's the row about, anyway, Mr. Magic-maker?"

"The Liquid of Petrifaction has accidentally fallen upon my dear wife
and Unc Nunkie and turned them into marble," he sadly replied.

"Well, why don't you sprinkle some of that powder on them and bring
them to life again?" asked the Patchwork Girl.

The Magician gave a jump.

"Why, I hadn't thought of that!" he joyfully cried, and grabbed up the
golden bottle, with which he ran to Margolotte.

Said the Patchwork Girl:

"Higgledy, piggledy, dee--
What fools magicians be!
His head's so thick
He can't think quick,
So he takes advice from me."

Standing upon the bench, for he was so crooked he could not reach the
top of his wife's head in any other way, Dr. Pipt began shaking the
bottle. But not a grain of powder came out. He pulled off the cover,
glanced within, and then threw the bottle from him with a wail of
despair.

"Gone--gone! Every bit gone," he cried. "Wasted on that miserable
phonograph when it might have saved my dear wife!"

Then the Magician bowed his head on his crooked arms and began to cry.

Ojo was sorry for him. He went up to the sorrowful man and said softly:

"You can make more Powder of Life, Dr. Pipt."

"Yes; but it will take me six years--six long, weary years of stirring
four kettles with both feet and both hands," was the agonized reply.
"Six years! while poor Margolotte stands watching me as a marble image."

"Can't anything else be done?" asked the Patchwork Girl.

The Magician shook his head. Then he seemed to remember something and
looked up.

"There is one other compound that would destroy the magic spell of the
Liquid of Petrifaction and restore my wife and Unc Nunkie to life,"
said he. "It may be hard to find the things I need to make this magic
compound, but if they were found I could do in an instant what will
otherwise take six long, weary years of stirring kettles with both
hands and both feet."

"All right; let's find the thi