“You are a man of judgment,” he observed in a flattering tone. “Be assured that I will remember this kindness, but what can I do to repay you for mending the cloak?” Scrapper looked thoughtful for a moment while the Patchwork Girl continued to mutter and scold under her breath. “Is this your slave?” he inquired at last, turning inquisitively to Peter. Ruggedo seemed a little surprised, but to Peter’s disgust and astonishment immediately nodded briskly. “Well, then,” said Scrapper, “suppose you give us the boy in payment for mending the cloak. Our Queen is not quick enough to do all the work here and he looks strong and willing.” “I’m not his slave!” burst out Peter wrathfully. “I’ll not stay here, you old simpleton.” But the more he shouted the more Ruggedo nodded and smiled at Scrapper. “Never mind,” whispered the Patchwork Girl, as Peter, on his way to the door, bumped into her, “never mind, I’ll help you.” And with this assurance he was forced to be satisfied. Realizing that Ruggedo meant to keep none of his promises, Peter tried to plan a way to get hold of the cloak first. But the Gnome King, pressing close to the old Quilty seamstress, waved him jealously away, and Scrapper, jerking him roughly by the arm, whirled him off into a corner. And now the cloak was mended. Shaking the threads from its folds the old grandame held it out to Ruggedo. As she did so, Peter rushed forward impetuously, but the gnome was too quick for him. Flinging on the magic garment, Ruggedo vanished from view, only the blue patch on the back of the cloak showing he was still in the room. Scrapper and the others screamed out in alarm, but Peter, throwing up his arm, cried out loudly, “Take him to Zamagoochie!” In a flash the Gnome King was gone, at least the blue patch was gone, and Peter, stamping his foot angrily, turned to the foolish old Quilty. “Now you’ve done it!” panted the little boy. [Illustration] “I told you not to help him,” cried Scraps, coming over to stand beside Peter. “You’ll be sorry for this.” “Oh, keep quiet!” mumbled Scrapper, mopping his forehead with his patched hanky. To tell the truth, the sudden disappearance of the Gnome King had upset him terribly. “I don’t see what you’re fussing about,” he finished fretfully. “Here you have a nice new slave to work for you. Out of my way there!” Taking the old Quilty woman by the arm, he brushed rudely past Peter, unlocked the door and went out. As the key clicked in the lock, Peter sank down on the floor, the picture of discouragement. “Why did you say that about Zamagoochie?” asked Scraps, dropping down beside the little boy and regarding him curiously. “Because it was the first place that came into my head,” explained Peter. “Jimminy, but I hope it’s a long way from the Emerald City, and I hope something happens to keep him there.” “Will the cloak take him anywhere he wants to go?” demanded Scraps. Peter nodded gloomily.