"You are!" exclaimed the stranger. "Why, I can hardly believe it! I never heard of anyone being that way! You can't have lived here very long."
"Oh, no," said the boy, "I haven't lived here a half hour. I only just came."
Then he asked his companion if this was the city of Ootch, where the famous Fountain of Riches was located.
"Oh, yes," said the stranger, "this is the city of Ootch all right. And the Fountain of Riches is here, too, but it's turned off; been turned off for years. Gee whiz, don't I remember the good old days when it was turned on. Everybody got so rich we nearly starved to death because nobody would work to provide things for us to live on. And then all of a sudden the fountain stopped, and I had to go to work again. I'm a night watchman. Not that there is much use of watching the night, because no one ever tries to steal it, but that's the trade my father taught me, so I'm it. And now, maybe you'll tell me why you ask about the Fountain of Riches?"
"Well," said Omo, cautiously, "I've heard so much about it I just thought I'd like to see it while I was here." He didn't think it wise to tell anything about the fairy godmother giving him the key to the fountain for fear some one might try to take the key from him.
"Quite so," said the other, "then you'd better come with me. The shower is over now, and if you want to see the fountain you've got to get a permit from the Doodab."
"The Doodab! What's a Doodab?" asked Omo.
"A Doodab," exclaimed the Night Watchman, "is the next swellest person to a Gumshu. Ootch isn't important enough to be governed by a Gumshu so they put a Doodab over us, and he's a right decent chap, and very fond of music. Why I've seen him sit by the hour and push a slate pencil across a slate and go into ecstasies because it made his blood run cold. You'll probably like him if you don't hate him. So come along and see for yourself."
Now the Doodab of Ootch was a very, very fat, and a very, very lazy gentleman. He hated to be bothered about anything at any time. He wore rings on his fingers and bells on his toes, and he had a big hoop of pearls through the end of his nose. And he especially hated to be bothered when he was singing, which is what he was doing as Omo and the Night Watchman entered his apartment. And this is what he was singing in a very quivery voice as he accompanied himself on a slate with an awfully squeaky slate pencil:
The currant cakes were thick upon the bushes;