CHAPTER XV
SALLY FINDS THE ENCHANTED WOOD
IT took nearly two days for the Wizard to get things in the tower once more into proper shape and during all that time the eclipse hung heavily over Toyland. The Wizard had worked feverishly with no light save that obtained from the fireflies that he had stolen from the palace. He was shaking in his shoes for fear the King and Queen should return and find that the only source of illumination had been cut off. As not even the wireless telegraph was working, he had been unable to communicate with Their Majesties, but feared that they must be very impatient by this time and that they might make their appearance at any moment.
It was difficult to get on with only the light afforded by the fireflies, and he chuckled grimly as he pictured the Weather Prophet, who had so reveled in the sunshine of her glass house, pining in the darkness in which he supposed she was locked up.
The room in which he had left her was on the opposite side of the tower, and he had only to cross the hall to reach it, but he savagely vowed to himself that he would not go near her, and that he didn’t care if she starved to death. After a while, however, the extreme quiet got on his nerves, and he began to wonder how it was that no sound at all came to him from the room across the hall. Presently he tiptoed very softly to the door and listened. But all was still as could be—nothing moved or breathed.
He went back to his work, but a feeling of uneasiness possessed him. The Queen was very fond of his pretty wife, and he knew that he would be called to strict account should he be the cause of any ill befalling her. After a little while he went back again and listened, but still he could hear nothing. After a moment of hesitation, he opened the door and went in.
By the radiance afforded by the fireflies, he saw at once that the room was empty. Even the food that he had left there was untouched. A hurried visit to all the other rooms on the floor failed to discover the object of his search. Really terrified, he sat down to consider. Suppose she had thrown herself down from the balcony, and was at that moment laying on the ground below, dashed to pieces! He had not the courage to go and investigate. For like most people who brag a great deal about themselves, the Wizard was an arrant coward. He fled back to his work, stopping not for food or rest, with the result that on the morning of the third day the sun shone brilliantly once more over Toyland.
A great notice was posted at the gate of the tower, announcing that the sun had been swallowed up by an enormous dragon known to science as the Ictotherium; that the Wizard had engaged him, single-handed, and by his magic arts had compelled him to disgorge his brilliant meal and flee the country.
The bulletin went on to state that the Weather Prophet had been carried away by the dragon. Prompted by curiosity, she had exposed herself on the high balcony at the top of the tower, contrary to the advice of her husband. The notice concluded with the announcement that there would be a purple twilight that afternoon, beginning promptly at five-thirty and advising that violets would be a suitable adornment for the afternoon tea tables.
Great was the grief expressed by everyone when the fate of the Wizard’s pretty little wife became generally known, for she had been a general favorite. Indeed, public sorrow almost outweighed public joy, delighted as everyone was that the sun shone once more. The Wizard shut himself up in his tower and refused to see anyone, and the general supposition was that he was prostrated with grief. To tell the truth, his jumping-jacks were scouring the country to see if they could discover any trace whatsoever of his wife, while he himself was nearly wild with anxiety lest she should suddenly pop up at some unlucky moment and give the whole thing away.