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radium,” answered the Chief. “We Horners spend all our time digging radium from the mines under this mountain, and we use it to decorate our homes and make them pretty and cosy. It is a medicine, too, and no one can ever be sick who lives near radium.”

      “Have you plenty of it?” asked the Patchwork Girl.

      “More than we can use. All the houses in this city are decorated with it, just the same as mine is.”

      “Why don’t you use it on your streets, then, and the outside of your houses, to make them as pretty as they are within?” she inquired.

      “Outside? Who cares for the outside of anything?” asked the Chief. “We Horners don’t live on the outside of our homes; we live inside. Many people are like those stupid Hoppers, who love to make an outside show. I suppose you strangers thought their city more beautiful than ours, because you judged from appearances and they have handsome marble houses and marble streets; but if you entered one of their stiff dwellings you would find it bare and uncomfortable, as all their show is on the outside. They have an idea that what is not seen by others is not important, but with us the rooms we live in are our chief delight and care, and we pay no attention to outside show.”

      “Seems to me,” said Scraps, musingly, “it would be better to make it all pretty—inside and out.”

      “Seems? Why, you’re all seams, my girl!” said the Chief; and then he laughed heartily at his latest joke and a chorus of small voices echoed the chorus with “tee-hee-hee! ha, ha!”

      Scraps turned around and found a row of girls seated in radium chairs ranged along one wall of the room. There were nineteen of them, by actual count, and they were of all sizes from a tiny child to one almost a grown woman. All were neatly dressed in spotless white robes and had brown skins, horns on their foreheads and three-colored hair.

      “These,” said the Chief, “are my sweet daughters. My dears, I introduce to you Miss Scraps Patchwork, a lady who is traveling in foreign parts to increase her store of wisdom.”

      The nineteen Horner girls all arose and made a polite curtsey, after which they resumed their seats and rearranged their robes properly.

      “Why do they sit so still, and all in a row?” asked Scraps.

      “Because it is ladylike and proper,” replied the Chief.

      “But some are just children, poor things! Don’t they ever run around and play and laugh, and have a good time?”

      “No, indeed,” said the Chief. “That would be improper in young ladies, as well as in those who will sometime become young ladies. My daughters are being brought up according to the rules and regulations laid down by a leading bachelor who has given the subject much study and is himself a man of taste and culture. Politeness is his great hobby, and he claims that if a child is allowed to do an impolite thing one cannot expect the grown person to do anything better.”

      “Is it impolite to romp and shout and be jolly?” asked Scraps.

      “Well, sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t,” replied the Horner, after considering the question. “By curbing such inclinations in my daughters we keep on the safe side. Once in a while I make a good joke, as you have heard, and then I permit my daughters to laugh decorously; but they are never allowed to make a joke themselves.”

      “That old bachelor who made the rules ought to be skinned alive!” declared Scraps, and would have said more on the subject had not the door opened to admit a little Horner man whom the Chief introduced as Diksey.

      “What’s up, Chief?” asked Diksey, winking nineteen times at the nineteen girls, who demurely cast down their eyes because their father was looking.

      The Chief told the man that his joke had not been understood by the dull Hoppers, who had become so angry that they had declared war. So the only way to avoid a terrible battle was to explain the joke so they could understand it.

      “All right,” replied Diksey, who seemed a good-natured man; “I’ll go at once to the fence and explain. I don’t want any war with the Hoppers, for wars between nations always cause hard feelings.”

      So the Chief and Diksey and Scraps left the house and went back to the marble picket fence. The Scarecrow was still stuck on the top of his picket but had now ceased to struggle. On the other side of the fence were Dorothy and Ojo, looking between the pickets; and there, also, were the Champion and many other Hoppers.

      Diksey went close to the fence and said:

      “My good Hoppers, I wish to explain that what I said about you was a joke. You have but one leg each, and we have two legs each. Our legs are under us, whether one or two, and we stand on them. So, when I said you had less understanding than we, I did not mean that you had less understanding, you understand, but that you had less standundering, so to speak. Do you understand that?”

      The Hoppers thought it over carefully. Then one said:

      “That is clear enough; but where does the joke come in?’”

      Dorothy laughed, for she couldn’t help it, although all the others were solemn enough.

      “I’ll tell you where the joke comes in,” she said, and took the Hoppers away to a distance, where the Horners could not hear them. “You know,” she then explained, “those neighbors of yours are not very bright, poor things, and what they think is a joke isn’t a joke at all—it’s true, don’t you see?”

      “True that we have less understanding?” asked the Champion.

      “Yes; it’s true because you don’t understand such a poor joke; if you did, you’d be no wiser than they are.”

      “Ah, yes; of course,” they answered, looking very wise.

      “So I’ll tell you what to do,” continued Dorothy. “Laugh at their poor joke and tell ‘em it’s pretty good for a Horner. Then they won’t dare say you have less understanding, because you understand as much as they do.”

      The Hoppers looked at one another questioningly and blinked their eyes and tried to think what it all meant; but they couldn’t figure it out.

      “What do you think, Champion?” asked one of them.

      “I think it is dangerous to think of this thing any more than we can help,” he replied. “Let us do as this girl says and laugh with the Horners, so as to make them believe we see the joke. Then there will be peace again and no need to fight.”

      They readily agreed to this and returned to the fence laughing as loud and as hard as they could, although they didn’t feel like laughing a bit. The Horners were much surprised.

      “That’s a fine joke—for a Horner—and we are much pleased with it,” said the Champion, speaking between the pickets. “But please don’t do it again.”

      “I won’t,” promised Diksey. “If I think of another such joke I’ll try to forget it.”

      “Good!” cried the Chief Horner. “The war is over and peace is declared.”

      There was much joyful shouting on both sides of the fence and the gate was unlocked and thrown wide open, so that Scraps was able to rejoin her friends.

      “What about the Scarecrow?” she asked Dorothy.

      “We must get him down, somehow or other,” was the reply.

      “Perhaps the Horners can find a way,” suggested Ojo. So they all went through the gate and Dorothy asked the Chief Horner how they could get the Scarecrow off the fence. The Chief didn’t know how, but Diksey said:

      “A ladder’s the thing.”

      “Have you one?” asked Dorothy.

      “To be sure. We use ladders in our mines,” said he. Then he ran away to get the ladder, and while he was gone the Horners gathered around and welcomed the strangers to their country, for through them

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