1. The CycloneDorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with UncleHenry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife. Theirhouse was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagonmany miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made oneroom; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard forthe dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henryand Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner, and Dorothy a little bed inanother corner. There was no garret at all, and no cellar--except asmall hole dug in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the familycould go in case one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough tocrush any building in its path. It was reached by a trap door in themiddle of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, darkhole.When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could seenothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree nor ahouse broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge ofthe sky in all directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into agray mass, with little cracks running through it. Even the grass wasnot green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades untilthey were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. Once the househad been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washedit away, and now the house was as dull and gray as everything else.When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. The sunand wind had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle from hereyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeksand lips, and they were gray also. She was thin and gaunt, and neversmiled now. When Dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her, AuntEm had been so startled by the child's laughter that she would screamand press her hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy's merry voicereached her ears; and she still looked at the little girl with wonderthat she could find anything to laugh at.Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night anddid not know what joy was. He was gray also, from his long beard tohis rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke.It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as grayas her other surroundings. Toto was not gray; he was a little blackdog, with long silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily oneither side of his funny, wee nose. Toto played all day long, andDorothy played with him, and loved him dearly.