2. How Uncle Henry Got Into Trouble

The Emerald City of Oz

by L. Frank Baum

Dorothy Gale lived on a farm in Kansas, with her Aunt Em and her
Uncle Henry. It was not a big farm, nor a very good one, because
sometimes the rain did not come when the crops needed it, and then
everything withered and dried up. Once a cyclone had carried away
Uncle Henry's house, so that he was obliged to build another; and as
he was a poor man he had to mortgage his farm to get the money to pay
for the new house. Then his health became bad and he was too feeble
to work. The doctor ordered him to take a sea voyage and he went to
Australia and took Dorothy with him. That cost a lot of money,
too.

Uncle Henry grew poorer every year, and the crops raised on the
farm only bought food for the family. Therefore the mortgage could
not be paid. At last the banker who had loaned him the money said
that if he did not pay on a certain day, his farm would be taken away
from him.

This worried Uncle Henry a good deal, for without the farm he
would have no way to earn a living. He was a good man, and worked in
the field as hard as he could; and Aunt Em did all the housework,
with Dorothy's help. Yet they did not seem to get along.

This little girl, Dorothy, was like dozens of little girls you
know. She was loving and usually sweet-tempered, and had a round rosy
face and earnest eyes. Life was a serious thing to Dorothy, and a
wonderful thing, too, for she had encountered more strange adventures
in her short life than many other girls of her age.

Aunt Em once said she thought the fairies must have marked
Dorothy at her birth, because she had wandered into strange places
and had always been protected by some unseen power. As for Uncle
Henry, he thought his little niece merely a dreamer, as her dead
mother had been, for he could not quite believe all the curious
stories Dorothy told them of the Land of Oz, which she had several
times visited. He did not think that she tried to deceive her uncle
and aunt, but he imagined that she had dreamed all of those
astonishing adventures, 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 housework for some one, dear, you are so handy; or
perhaps you could be a nurse-maid to little children. I'm sure I
don't know exactly what you can do to earn money, but if your uncle
and I are able to support you we will do it willingly, and send you
to school. We fear, though, that we shall have much trouble in
earning a living for ourselves. No one wants to employ old people
who are broken down in health, as we are."

Dorothy smiled.

"Wouldn't it be funny," she said, "for me to do housework in
Kansas, when I'm a Princess in the Land of Oz?"

"A Princess!" they both exclaimed, astonished.

"Yes; Ozma made me a Princess some time ago, and she has often
begged me to come and live always in the Emerald City," said the
child.

Her uncle and aunt looked at her in amazement. Then the man
said:

"Do you suppose you could manage to return to your fairyland, my
dear?"

"Oh yes," replied Dorothy; "I could do that easily."

"How?" asked Aunt Em.

"Ozma sees me every day at four o'clock, in her Magic Picture.
She can see me wherever I am, no matter what I am doing. And at that
time, if I make a certain secret sign, she will send for me by means
of the Magic Belt, which I once captured from the Nome King. Then,
in the wink of an eye, I shall be with Ozma in her palace."

The elder people remained silent for some time after Dorothy had
spoken. Finally, Aunt Em said, with another sigh of regret:

"If that is the case, Dorothy, perhaps you'd better go and live
in the Emerald City. It will break our hearts to lose you from our
lives, but you will be so much better off with your fairy friends
that it seems wisest and best for you to go."

"I'm not so sure about that," remarked Uncle Henry, shaking his
gray head doubtfully. "These things all seem real to Dorothy, I
know; but I'm afraid our little girl won't find her fairyland just
what she had dreamed it to be. It would make me very unhappy to
think that she was wandering among strangers who might be unkind to
her."

Dorothy laughed merrily at this speech, and then she became very
sober again, for she could see how all this trouble was worrying her
aunt and uncle, and knew that unless she found a way to help them
their future lives would be quite miserable and unhappy. She knew
that she could help them. She had thought of a way already. Yet she
did not tell them at once what it was, because she must ask Ozma's
consent before she would be able to carry out her plans.

So she only said:

"If you will promise not to worry a bit about me, I'll go to the
Land of Oz this very afternoon. And I'll make a promise, too; that
you shall both see me again before the day comes when you must leave
this farm."

"The day isn't far away, now," her uncle sadly replied. "I did
not tell you of our trouble until I was obliged to, dear Dorothy, so
the evil time is near at hand. But if you are quite sure your fairy
friends will give you a home, it will be best for you to go to them,
as your aunt says."

That was why Dorothy went to her little room in the attic that
afternoon, taking with her a small dog named Toto. The dog had curly
black hair and big brown eyes and loved Dorothy very dearly.

The child had kissed her uncle and aunt affectionately before
she went upstairs, and now she looked around her little room rather
wistfully, gazing at the simple trinkets and worn calico and gingham
dresses, as if they were old friends. She was tempted at first to
make a bundle of them, yet she knew very well that they would be of
no use to her in her future life.

She sat down upon a broken-backed chair--the only one the room
contained--and holding Toto in her arms waited patiently until the
clock struck four.

Then she made the secret signal that had been agreed upon
between her and Ozma.

Uncle Henry and Aunt Em waited downstairs. They were uneasy and
a good deal excited, for this is a practical humdrum world, and it
seemed to them quite impossible that their little niece could vanish
from her home and travel instantly to fairyland.

So they watched the stairs, which seemed to be the only way that
Dorothy could get out of the farmhouse, and they watched them a long
time. They heard the clock strike four but there was no sound from
above.

Half-past four came, and now they were too impatient to wait any
longer. Softly, they crept up the stairs to the door of the little
girl's room.

"Dorothy! Dorothy!" they called.

There was no answer.

They opened the door and looked in.

The room was empty.