“All right,” said Scraps cheerfully. “I don’t—but I’m going to feel around and see if I can find the matches. There used to be some candles on the mantel and—” As she spoke, Scraps fell headlong over Sir Hokus of Pokes and as luck would have it her cotton fingers closed over a small gold match box. Picking herself up carefully, Scraps struck a match on Sir Hokus’ armor and looked anxiously around the room. “They need water,” said the Patch Work Girl, wrinkling up her patchwork forehead. “So will you if you don’t blow out that match!” cried the Scarecrow in alarm, for Scraps continued to hold the match till it burned to the very end. He jumped up clumsily and puffed out the light just in time. Scraps promptly lit another and as she did so the Scarecrow saw a tall blue candle sticking out of the waste basket. “Here,” said the Straw Man nervously. “Light this and stand it on the mantel there.” By the flickering candle light the Scarecrow and Scraps tried to set Dorothy’s room to rights. They dragged the mattress from the bed-room and placed the little girls on it, side by side. Sir Hokus was too heavy to move, so they merely loosened his armor and put a sofa cushion under his head. Then, just as Scraps was going for some water, the room began to tremble again. “I told you it wasn’t over,” cried Scraps, flinging both arms about the Scarecrow’s neck. And as they rocked to and fro she shouted merrily: “Shaker! Shaker! Who art thee, To shake a castle like a tree? Shaker! Shaker! Go away And come again some other day!” “Now, Scraps,” begged the Scarecrow, steadying the Patch Work Girl with one hand and catching hold of a table with the other, “everything depends on us. Do try to keep your head!” “Keep my head!” shrilled Scraps, as the room tilted over and slid all the furniture sideways. “I’ll be lucky if I keep my feet. Whoopee! Here we go!” And go they did with a rush into the farthest corner. Slowly the room righted itself and everything grew quiet again. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “I know what I’m going to do,” said the Scarecrow determinedly. “Before anything else happens I’m going to see what has happened already.” “How?” asked Scraps, bouncing to her feet. [Illustration: Dorothy and Toto] “The Magic Picture,” gasped the Scarecrow. “You bring the candle, Scraps, like a good girl. You’re less liable to take fire than I am. Then we’ll come back and help Dorothy and the others.” “Good idea,” said Scraps, taking the candle from the mantel. Breathlessly the two tip-toed along the hall to Ozma’s apartment. On the wall in one of Ozma’s rooms hangs the most magic possession in Oz. It is a picture representing a country scene, but when you ask it where a certain person is, immediately he is shown in the picture and also what he is doing at the time. “So,” murmured the Scarecrow, as they gained the room in safety, “if it tells where other people are, it ought to tell us where we are ourselves.”