Bob was thinking to himself that Notta’s last disguise had not helped them much, but he was too polite to mention such a thing, and as there seemed to be no danger in sight he trotted along contentedly, stopping now and then to pick the bright blue flowers that grew everywhere under the trees. The forest was not so large as it had seemed in the night, and in an hour they had come to the end of it and started down a narrow lane.
“Well, we’re still going north.” Notta looked complacently at a large sign post that stood at the beginning of the lane.
“North Road to D,” said the sign briefly.
“Wonder what D stands for?”
“Because it can’t sit down.” The sign snapped out the sentence so suddenly that Notta tripped and fell over a stone, and Bob simply gasped with astonishment.
“They didn’t paint any line for it to sit on,” explained the sign post patiently.
“Where does this lane go to?” gulped the clown, edging over and taking Bob’s hand.
“It doesn’t go any place. It stays where it is.
“See here,” puffed the clown in exasperation, “I never heard of a talking sign post, but so long as you can talk, you might give us a few directions.
“I only give one direction and that’s north. You can take it, or leave it.”
Notta tried the post with a few more questions, but it just sniffed sulkily, and seeing no more was to be got out of it, the two hurried on.
“Maybe D stands for Dorothy,” said Bob, after a little silence.
“Maybe,” mused the clown, looking uneasily over his shoulder, “but this is a strange country, and we’ll have to take it as we find it. Hello, what’s this?”
A sudden turn brought them up short, for the lane was closed off by a gray wall, so high one could not possibly climb over and so wide that it would take days to walk ‘round. And in the wall were seven heavy oak doors.
“This is the Kingdom of Doorways,” announced a large sign, posted half way up the walls. “Be sure to use the right door.”
“But which is the right door?” gasped the clown, half expecting the sign to answer him.
“There are seven,” exclaimed Bob, who had been counting them up on his fingers.
“And only one of them right,” choked the clown anxiously. The two stood perfectly still, gazing in fascination at the seven doors.
“Which is the right door?” repeated Notta, scratching his ear doubtfully.
CHAPTER 6 The Seven Doors
As Bob and Notta came closer, they noticed that each door had a brass plate nailed on the center panel, engraved with various names and instructions. “Keep out!” directed one shortly.
“Well, that surely cannot be the right one, exclaimed the clown, moving hastily to the next.
“Don’t waken the baby,” advised the second door. So Notta and Bob tiptoed carefully past,
“This way to the Dorms. No admittance till February,” said the third door.
“And it’s only May now. We cannot possibly wait that long.” Notta took off his hat and made the door a polite bow. “Besides,” he explained to Bob, who was slowly spelling out the words on the fourth door, “dorms stands for dormitories and dormitories stand for sleep. Who wants to sleep?”
“King Theodore the Third,” said the fourth door.
“Whew!” whistled Notta. “Another King! Come away, Bob Up, I don’t trust these king chaps
at all.”
“The Queen,” announced the plate on the fifth door proudly, “Adora the First. No one without a title need apply.”
“Well? we may not be earls, but we’re early,” chuckled Notta, winking at Bob. They hurried curiously to the sixth door. “Push!” said the plate.
“But would that be wise?” ruminated Notta, rubbing his forehead anxiously. “Let’s try the last
door, Bob.”
“Don’t try me too much or I’ll fall on your head,” wheezed a disagreeable voice. “Haven’t you anything better to do than go trying poor hardworking doors?”
After a talking sign, Notta and Bob should not have been surprised. But they were-simply astonished-and for a moment could do nothing but stare.
“This door answers itself,” said the plate on the seventh and strangest of all the strange
doorways.
“No bread, no ice, no milk; and if you’re selling brushes you might as well go at once, continued the door sulkily. “We don’t need any.
“We’re not!” interrupted Notta, in a slightly choked voice. “We just want to get in.”
“What for?” asked the door stubbornly. “Is it a door matter? Have you cards of admission?”
“We’re hunting Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion,” volunteered Bob timidly.
“A likely story,” sniffed the door, looking contemptuously from one to the other. “But what could one expect of people with curly ears.
“We have not curly ears,” cried Bob, stamping his foot indignantly.
“Don’t argue,” said the door stiffly. “How’s your temper-long or short?” It rolled its wooden knot eyes inquiringly at Notta.
“What’s that got to do with our getting in?” asked the clown impatiently.
“Short!” muttered the door triumphantly to itself. “No, you’d better stay out, I think. Her highness is very slammish today, and the last time I let strangers in she nearly twisted my knob off. That’s the trouble around here-when anything goes wrong, everybody slams the door. Sometimes I almost wish I were a sofa cushion.”
“I wish you were, myself,” frowned the clown, “for then I’d toss you out of the way instead of wasting my breath here. Are you going to let us in or not?”
“Not!” snapped the door, rattling its knob vindictively. “And I don’t care a slam what you
wish.”
“Bob,” said Notta, turning his back on the door, “did you ever hear anything like that? Let’s try Number Two. I’d rather risk wakening a baby than trying to argue with a door that answers itself.”
“I’m not afraid of babies,” said Bob following manfully. The knob of Number Two turned easily and the door swung open with such a rush that both Notta and Bob fell through. At the first glimpse of that baby, Notta clapped his hand over Bob’s mouth and, rising with quaking knees; pulled him toward the door. For you see it was a baby dragon-a snoring, roaring baby dragon as long and heavy as a freight train. It gave a shrill whistle and snort as the door slammed shut and Notta and Bob sat down in a weak heap.
“Baby,” choked the clown, rubbing his eyes, which were full of dragon smoke. “Well, if that’s the baby, preserve me from the rest of the family!”
“Will it come after us?” shuddered Bob, in a frightened whisper.
“How did you like our little doorter?” The seventh door looked sideways at the two and chuckled wickedly. “Still want to get in?”
“Certainly,” said Notta, turning a dozen cartwheels to relieve his nervousness, “but not that way.” He winked reassuringly at Bob. “Before I do anything else I must put on my disguise. No wonder things are going so badly.”
“Don’t you think you look silly enough?” wheezed the door rudely, as the clown drew out disguise number three. Notta paid no attention to this remark but, turning his back, struggled hastily into number three. Even Bob felt reassured, for this time Notta was disguised as a bear-a huge and terrible-looking bear. Grasping Bob’s hand he rushed at the door marked “Push,” with such a ferocious growl that Number Seven shook like a leaf.
“Oh, my hinges,” chattered the door, “that went through me like a sword.” But immediately afterward it broke into derisive laughter. For no sooner had Notta and Bob pushed Number Six, than Number Six pushed back, and so hard that the two went flying into a clump of blueberry bushes.
“That’s the door way to treat ‘em, brother,” roared Seven, and Notta picked himself up and straightened his bear skin.
“Now some people,” muttered the clown, helping Bobbie out of the brushes and shaking his paw
at the door, “some people would be discouraged. But no more side shows, Bob. Let’s try the Queen’s door, if we’re to be thrown out it might as well be done royally.”
There was a silver bell on the Queen’s door and Notta rang it quickly, before either of them
had time to change their minds. For a moment nothing at all happened. Then the door knob disappeared. But horrors! Next instant it shot out, seized the two in a terrible clutch, and dragged them through the keyhole. Yes, it really did!
Not only had they been pulled through the keyhole, but they felt as if they had been pulled through the keyhole. Even Notta had nothing to say. He just lay on his back and panted. Whether the keyhole had stretched as they went through or whether they had shrunk, I cannot say. I only know they went through somehow and were on the other side of the Queen’s door. “Cards, please!” A doorman in a handsome blue satin uniform was leaning over them. “Are you deaf?” he asked angrily. “Are you dumb?” He thumped Notta on the head with his silver card plate.
“Neither,” groaned the clown. “What do you want?”
“Your titles,” snapped the doorman, looking nervously over his shoulder. As he did so, a vase, three books and a pair of fire tongs struck the wall just above his head.
“Oh, the Queen is in a fury, whatever shall I do next,” he mumbled to himself, dropping the silver plate and then picking it up again.
“Let’s run,” said Bob, pressing close to Notta. But the clown had already recovered his spirits and was fumbling in his pockets under his bear skin.
“There you are. He calmly dropped two large buttons on the doorman’s plate. “Just lead us to her Majesty at once.
“Someone’s been at the jam again,” quavered the doorman without looking at the buttons. “Oh, the Queen’s in a fury-a fury-a fury!”
At each fury he gave a little hop.
“You said that before,” observed Notta, looking around curiously.
“A fury! A fury! A fury!” persisted the doorman, continuing to hop, and as each hop carried him farther away he was soon out of sight.
“Wait!” cried Notta, lumbering after him, for his disguise made him clumsy.
“Wait!” cried Bob Up, running after Notta. Down the long hall they both ran, and, turning suddenly, found themselves in a large, impressive throne room. The entire wall space was taken up by the doors of every size and shape imaginable and before each door stood a doorman similar to the one they had already seen. In the center of the room were two magnificent thrones. On the first sat a large, handsome Queen and on the second a small nervous King. The King’s crown was entirely made of china door knobs, mounted on gold bars, while the Queen’s was made of many gold door keys. The Queen was looking at the buttons as Bob and Notta entered.
“Buttons!” hissed her Majesty contemptuously. “What do buttons stand for?”
“Us, your Highness!” replied Notta, bowing as low as his disguise would permit, and drawing Bob forward.
The King twiddled his thumbs and recited:
“B stands for buttons And B stands for bears, B stands for buttons and boy-Bring two chairs!”
“Nonsense!” thundered the Queen. The doormen hastily brought two chairs and Bob and Notta sat down.
“I think he’ll appreciate rule two,” whispered the clown. “He’s quite polite himself.”
“Theodore,” said the Queen, her face beginning to work curiously, “Theodore, I believe they stole the jam. Bears and little boys are always stealing jam. And what right have they here without titles? Where are their titles?”
“Adorable Queen,” said the clown, half rising and pointing with his paw to the buttons, “those are the badges of our order. We belong, your Highness, to the ancient and honorable Order of Bachelors, and are at present lords of all we survey.”
“Do you believe that?” The Queen turned and squarely faced the King.
“No!” said Theodore emphatically, turning to squarely face the Queen. “How could I, when there is no such place. Where is this All-we-survey?” he asked sternly. “Is it in Oz?”
Notta was so surprised at the sudden turn the conversation had taken that he sat down with a
thump.
“He’s a dorm!” screeched the Queen, her voice rising higher and higher. “He’s a dorm-that’s what he is!”
“What’s a dorm?” gasped Bob, so surprised that he forgot to be frightened.
“A dorm is an animal that lies dormant in cold weather, like a bear or a ‘possum, my dear Buttons,” explained the King, shaking his finger at Bob, “but he’s got no business here now.
“I see it all,” panted the Queen beginning to wave her arms. “He didn’t come here to sleep but to steal! Theodore, he has stolen the jam!”
The King wagged his head from side to side as he repeated this verse:
“He’s come without reason And quite out of season; I agree with you, Ma’am, He has stolen
the jam!”
“Put out your tongue!” commanded the Queen, waving a bunch of keys at Notta. This Notta was unable to do, for his bear head had no tongue.
“You see!” shrilled the Queen triumphantly, “he is afraid to put out his tongue. Slammer,” she called, turning to a huge doorman, who stood behind the throne, “what is the punishment for door jam stealing?”
The doorman whisked a little book from his pocket and, after flipping over a number of pages, read in a high nasal voice, “Any one caught stealing the Queen’s door jam shall have his knob twisted and every door in the kingdom slammed on him besides.”
“How fearfully unhealthy,” muttered Notta, rising to protest his innocence. But the Queen waved him back, and banging her keys on the arm of her throne called loudly, “Slammer, carry out the sentence!”
Slammer immediately blew a sharp whistle and every doorman in the room sprang toward the trembling Notta.
“Stop!” cried Bob, doubling up his fists. “He didn’t steal your old jam. ‘Tisn’t a bear at all, it’s
Notta!”
“Notta?” gasped the King, rubbing his watery blue eyes, and leaning forward.
“Not a bear!” puffed the clown, hastily snatching off his bear head, just as the first of the doormen grasped him by the shoulders.
CHAPTER 7 The Escape From Doorways
“What do you mean by standing there and telling us you’re not a bear?” puffed the King, as soon as he had got his breath.
“It was a mistake, I see that now,” said the clown, hastily stepping out of his disguise. “If your Highness will overlook it this once, it will never occur again.
“Shall we overlook it?” asked the King, turning to squarely face the Queen. Adora was staring in amazement at the clown, and being a very curious Queen she decided not to have the intruder slammed till she found out all about him. “We will overlook it for the present,” she answered haughtily, waving the doormen back to their places.
The King smiled and chanted this couplet:
“She’ll overlook it for the present; Be seated, please, and both look pleasant!”
Bob sat down with a sigh of relief. What queer beings this King and Queen were! Everything was queer, but for some reason or other Bob rather enjoyed it. King Theodore was not nearly so fierce as Mustafa, and his singular habit of breaking into verse simply fascinated the little boy. “This brings us to rule three,” confided Notta in a hoarse whisper. “Joke and run, you know!”
“When is a door not a door?” asked the Queen, pointing her finger suddenly at the clown.
“When it’s adorable, like your Majesty,” replied Notta with a grin. “Or when it’s a jar of door jam, like the one your Highness has just lost!”
Before Adora had recovered from her surprise, Notta pointed his finger at the King and shouted, “Why is a tomato like a book?”
“Because it grows on a vine,” answered King Theodore sulkily, “and you needn’t scream at me
like that!”
“Wrong!” said Notta triumphantly. “A tomato’s
like a book because it’s red through.”
“Do you believe that?” asked the King, turning to squarely face the Queen.
“No!” said her Majesty shortly, “I don’t.”
“But a book couldn’t grow on a vine,” objected Bob Up mildly.
“My books do,” insisted Theodore, pursing up his lips.
“Where were you brought up?” asked the Queen, staring at Bob severely.
“You needn’t answer if you don’t want to,” whispered the King, as Bob squirmed uneasily around in his chair. “The main thing is, what brought you up here?
“If it’s a story, rise and speak. What do you want? Whom do you seek?”
L. Frank Baum - Oz 17 Page 4