“Have you a factory in this place?” asked the Wizard, who had been examining the strange personage carefully.

“To be sure,” said the other.  “I am a great inventor, you must know, and I manufacture my products in this lonely spot.”

“What are your products?” enquired the Wizard.

“Well, I make Assorted Flutters for flags and bunting, and a superior grade of Rustles for ladies’ silk gowns.”

“I thought so,” said the Wizard, with a sigh.  “May we examine some of these articles?”

“Yes, indeed; come into my shop, please,” and the braided man turned and led the way into a smaller cave, where he evidently lived.  Here, on a broad shelf, were several card-board boxes of various sizes, each tied with cotton cord.

“This,” said the man, taking up a box and handling it gently, “contains twelve dozen rustles—­enough to last any lady a year.  Will you buy it, my dear?” he asked, addressing Dorothy.

“My gown isn’t silk,” she said, smiling.

“Never mind.  When you open the box the rustles will escape, whether you are wearing a silk dress or not,” said the man, seriously.  Then he picked up another box.  “In this,” he continued, “are many assorted flutters.  They are invaluable to make flags flutter on a still day, when there is no wind.  You, sir,” turning to the Wizard, “ought to have this assortment.  Once you have tried my goods I am sure you will never be without them.”

“I have no money with me,” said the Wizard, evasively.

“I do not want money,” returned the braided man, “for I could not spend it in this deserted place if I had it.  But I would like very much a blue hair-ribbon.  You will notice my braids are tied with yellow, pink, brown, red, green, white and black; but I have no blue ribbons.”

“I’ll get you one!” cried Dorothy, who was sorry for the poor man; so she ran back to the buggy and took from her suit-case a pretty blue ribbon.  It did her good to see how the braided man’s eyes sparkled when he received this treasure.

“You have made me very, very happy, my dear!” he exclaimed; and then he insisted on the Wizard taking the box of flutters and the little girl accepting the box of rustles.

“You may need them, some time,” he said, “and there is really no use in my manufacturing these things unless somebody uses them.”

“Why did you leave the surface of the earth?” enquired the Wizard.

“I could not help it.  It is a sad story, but if you will try to restrain your tears I will tell you about it.  On earth I was a manufacturer of Imported Holes for American Swiss Cheese, and I will acknowledge that I supplied a superior article, which was in great demand.  Also I made pores for porous plasters and high-grade holes for doughnuts and buttons.  Finally I invented a new Adjustable Post-hole, which I thought would make my fortune.  I manufactured a large quantity of these post-holes,