He absently sat and drew a picture of Telly in the dirt.
"Where are you, Telly?" he asked aloud. He spoke his question into the
air, and no answer seemed to be forthcoming. "What has she done to you?
I have to know. I miss you, Telly! You are my best friend in this
strange land. I love you! Where have you been taken?"
"Who is Telly?" came an unfamiliar female voice. Graham turned about to
see who had spoken. He was looking as much into the sun as into the face
of the speaker. It was hard to distinguish her features. But she looked
like a fine white horse.
"Hello?" said Graham uncertainly.
"Hello," replied the voice. Whoever she was, she sounded gentle and
understanding. "My name is Jeanne-Marie. Why are you so glum?"
"My friend has been taken prisoner by a bad Witch," explained the boy,
who felt an inexplicable trust for this equine newcomer. "Oh," she
replied. "I am sorry. I had thought that Queen Ozma had done away with
all such vile Witches."
"Well," he sighed, "she doesn't know about this one. This wicked old
Witch has created a very clever illusion that has made Ozma unable to
see her or to find out about her. I was fooled, too. I had been under
the impression that Ozma was as wicked as the Witch. But I was wrong.
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