"I don't care what you call me, but I'd call you very odd!" said the dummy in alarm. "You've grown at least a foot while I've been looking at you. People in this country are supposed to stay the same size," he muttered, edging away uneasily. But Dorothy scarcely heard him. There was a frightful pain in her heart and both shoes pinched so terribly that she screamed aloud. At the same instant all the buttons flew off the back her dress.
"Are you going to burst?" asked the dummy anxiously.
"Oh! Oh! I'm afraid so," gasped the little girl, clutching herself about the waist. At each word she shot up another inch, for Dorothy, who had lived in the Fairy Land of Oz for many years, was suddenly growing up.
In Oz, no one ever grows up, but in America Dorothy would be quite a young lady by this time and, removed from the magical influences of that magical land, she was growing all at once and finding it, as most of the rest of us do, an exceedingly uncomfortable business. Her screams as she grew taller and taller were so piteous that Humpy fell off the log.
"Help! Help! Help!" wailed the dummy, beating his flimsy arms up and down among the leaves.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" panted Dorothy desperately. "I can't stand this another minute. I wish I were back. I wish I were back!"
Next moment there was not a sound in the ravine, nor a person, nor even a dummy. Only a startled squirrel ran up and down the log, chattering with fright and annoyance. Certainly he had seen two people on that log. Well, where were they now? He frisked his tail, he wiggled his nose and scratched his head anxiously. Then, with a little bounce, he gave it up and went off to crack some nuts for supper.