"
"Who is that?" wondered Graham.
"Well, I haven't actually met him in person," she admitted. "But I
overheard him talking to his helpers one day. He was telling them about
the need for all sentient beings to have a purpose in life. No one can
be fulfilled if he is not in some way making his existence count for
anything. He himself is in control of the finest dairy farm in Oz. He
has vast fields of milkweed that his helpers harvest for him in exchange
for their housing, food, and the occasional game of quoits."
"That sounds fair, I suppose," replied Graham, realizing that this group
was not one which was accustomed to using any form of money.
"Very much so," she said. "And the helpers--a unique tribe of
warthog-like amphibians known as wartfrogs--are highly contented with
their lot. MacDonald Lindsay allows them to come and go as they please,
and he has given each of them a home that is far more luxurious than his
own little lodging. Actually, MacDonald's farm is the only thing he has
that is luxurious. His personal abode is a simple cleft in a rock that
you can see from here in that little hill." She pointed with her horn.
"I see it," said Graham. "This MacDonald fellow sounds like a good
enough guy."
"Oh, he is very good," said Jeanne-Marie.
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