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girl. As she stepped onto the scale, the Professor
took out his notebook and said, "Sixty-seven pounds.
Sixty-seven votes for Ozma." He wrote "67" in his
notebook under the name of Ozma.
"Next, you Gillikin boy. Don't be bashful. Step
right up to Miss Jenny Jump's scale. It is not only
your right, but your duty, to vote!"
The boy timidly approached Jenny Jump's plat-
form and stepped on the scale. "Ahz," cried the
Professor. "Eighty-seven pounds." He wrote the
number in his notebook under the name of Jenny.
"Let me see-sixty-seven subtracted from eighty-
seven leaves twenty-that's twenty votes in Miss
Jenny Jump's favor!"
But after two more people had been weighed, the
Professor cried out, "Our Queen is now leading by
nine votes!"
Jenny felt strange, there before so many people.
Now she knew exactly how a queen must feel.
"It's not all fun," she said to herself. "But just the
same, I want to be Queen. If I win, I intend to move
into the royal palace. But I'll hate to give up the
Style Shop."
There were many faces in the crowd that gave
Jenny a friendly smile. She could see many of her
styles on the people. At this point, the Soldier with
the Green Whiskers was directed by the Wogglebug
to Jenny's scale. A huge gold medal covered half the
Soldier's chest. He stepped on Jenny's scale, and the
Wogglebug shouted, "One hundred fifty-five pounds
of Army vote."
The Soldier turned indignantly. "I beg your par-
don, Professor Wogglebug, T.E. But according to
the Records of the Army, my weight has always been
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one hundred twenty-five. There is no reason why I
should be twenty-five pounds overweight today!"
The Soldier was still standing on the scale, and the
pointer touched 155. The Professor put his hand on
the scale.
"Do you dispute the accuracy of this instrument?"
he said.
The Soldier turned greener with anger. "Are you
calling the Army Records false?" he shouted.
The Wogglebug drew back, studying the Soldier.
His eyes fell on the large medal.
"Ah, haz!" he said, pointing at the Soldier's chest.
"That explains everything!"
The Soldier's eyes fell on the medal, and his face
broke into a smile. "Ahz, yes, I had forgotten. My
decoration for saving the city from the chocolate
army."
He marched away from the scale, and Ozma leaned
toward Jenny's platform.
"I have been thinking of-" said Ozma, when the
Wogglebug stepped between the two platforms.
"Ladies, ladies! I beg to remind you that you are
holding up the line!"
"I beg your pardon, Professor," said Jenny and
Ozma.
The Wogglebug called, "Next, please. Keep the
line moving."
The weighing-in continued. The votes kept closely
balanced. First Ozma would be ahead, then Jenny
would overtake her, or pass her. The people were in
a state of great excitement, not knowing how the
ozlection would turn out at the end.
As noon approached, the footmen from the palace
set up picnic tables in the Public Square. Someone
said to Jenny, "Could you tell me what the score is
now?" But Jenny could not see anyone speaking to
her.
"It is 15,009 votes for Ozma, and 15,010 for my-
self." She looked around, "Are you the Voice That
Lost His Man?"
"The same. Has my Man been weighed in yet?"
asked the Voice.
"I don't know," said Jenny.
"Oh, here he comes. My vacation is over !" The
Voice had both disappointment and pleasure in its
tone.
Coming from the front of the line and stepping
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around the Wogglebug, Jenny saw a stout, dark man
with pointed, waxed mustaches. He waved his hands
as he walked, and when he stepped on the platform
he wiggled his fingers, as if he were trying to shape
words with them.
"I don't know what you are trying to say," said
Jenny. Then she heard the Voice, "Here I am,
Master! Is that horrid Cold out of your throat?"
The dark, round man rolled his eyes and exposed
his even rows of teeth in a grin. He waved his arms
and danced, his face radiant with joy. But not a
sound did he utter.
"Oh, Master! I know what you would sing if you
had me inside you." The Voice burst into song beside
the singer 5 head, "0, Sole Mio!"
The man clapped his hands and seemed speechless
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