"Are you?" At this quick and unexpected turning of his question, the Scarecrow threw back his head and laughed heartily. "I don't know," he admitted merrily, "whether I'm a person or not, but I do know that I'm alive and it's great fun to be alive!" "Is it?" The Public Benefactor looked dubiously into the Scarecrow's cheerful cotton countenance. "I'm not sure I like it," he sighed, shaking his head ponderously. "Oh, you'll get used to it." Clapping on his hat, the straw man regarded his companion attentively. "You're the only live statue I've ever seen," he observed at last. "How do you happen to be alive?" There was something so jolly about this queer fellow, the poor statue began to feel a little happier. "First," he began slowly, "I was quarried, then I was hacked and hewn into my present shape. For many years I stood on a pedestal in a little park in the city of Boston. While I could neither move nor talk I could see and hear all that went on about me. And what I saw and heard was interesting enough. I watched the children sail their boats in the small pond, listened to the band on warm summer evenings and observed the strange habits of the men and women who walked about under the trees. If I had just had a hat or umbrella to protect me from the rain and snow, I could have been perfectly happy." "You must be perfectly happy now," put in the Scarecrow slyly, "for I see you have both." The Public Benefactor shook his head impatiently at the interruption. "Once a year," he continued pompously, "a crowd of citizens came and hung wreaths around my neck, and in long tedious speeches which I could not understand referred to me as a great public benefactor. Do you know what a Public Benefactor is?" he inquired curiously. "Well," answered the Scarecrow cautiously, "you probably founded a school or a library or gave large sums of money to the poor. What was your name anyway?" "I never knew," replied the gray stone gentleman sadly. "It was carved on the base of my pedestal and as I was unable to bend over I could never discover this interesting information." "Then I shall call you Benny," decided the Scarecrow cheerfully, "short for public benefactor, you know. Do you look like the person you're supposed to be?" The statue shook his head. "I don't know that either," he admitted gloomily. "Oh, never mind that," said the Scarecrow, sitting down on a nearby tree stump. "You are a speaking likeness of somebody, but how did you come to life?"