"Well," said his grandfather, groaning worse than ever, "I never thought for a minute that I would ever have my leg broken, and I was so very, _very_ poor I simply _had_ to have a cottage _cheap_. But now, I'll not only lose the cottage, but you also. I guess I might as well die." "Don't you do it!" responded Omo. "I haven't been made into a dumpling _yet_, and I'm not going to be, if I can help it. I'll go into the city and get the doctor, and while I'm there I'll try to earn enough money to pay the rent." But Omo's grandfather only shook his head. "You're a plucky boy, Omo," he said, "but you'll never be able to do it. How can a boy of seven earn anything?" "Well, I can try, can't I?" said Omo. "You can't do anything if you don't try." So pulling his cap down over his curls, and tucking some bread and cheese into his pocket, he set off for town. But when he arrived at the doctor's office he found that the waiting room was crowded with people, and that he would have to wait his turn. "Oh, dear," he sighed, as he sat down next to a little old lady with a frilled bonnet on her head, "this is most unfortunate. My grandfather ought to be attended to right away." "Well, he won't get attended to right away," said the old lady, "I can tell you that! This doctor charges by the length of time you wait in his office, so he _never_ hurries. I've been here three months." "Three months!" cried the boy. "Oh, I couldn't possibly wait three months, or even three days. I'm in a hurry! I've got to earn enough money to pay the rent of our cottage, or the ogre who owns it will turn me into a dumpling and eat me." And when he said that everybody in the waiting room twisted about and looked at him. "He seems to have a fever," they said. "See here," said the old lady, "are you sure you're not sick instead of your grandfather?" "I'm _perfectly_ well!" exclaimed Omo, indignantly. "Then you must be joking," responded the other. "No, I'm not," said Omo. "I mean every word I said. I'm in great trouble." "H'm," said the old lady. She got to her feet. "Come on, let's go outside! We'll save money by it anyway!" Then as they walked along the street Omo told her all about his grandfather's accident, and how important it was that the rent should be paid. "Ha!" exclaimed the old lady. "I know that ogre! His name is Gub and he lives on the hill on the other side of the city. I often used to help people out of his clutches. I'm a retired fairy godmother--haven't been in business for years and years--but your story interests me. I've a good mind to help you!" "Oh, if you only would!" said Omo, "I'd be awfully obliged. You see, it's not very pleasant to be made into a dumpling, and have my grandfather put out of his cottage when he has a broken leg. Please, _please_, help me!" "Well," said the old lady, as she led the way into a little house with a peaked roof, "I only help people who help themselves. Can you help yourself?"