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There were so many of Avrillia's children and so many of the Gunki that the Garden had a delightfully animated appearance. Yassuh was there, carrying Pirlaps' step and the hand-bag with his shaving-things and extra trousers; but as Avrillia hadn't come yet he hadn't used his step, and his clothes were quite immaculate.
Sara did not need to be told that they were Sobs anybody would have known it. Looking closely, Sara could see in the water hundreds of little black fish, decorated with silver dots and streaks. As the Gunki approached the stream with Sara's tears, all the Sobs began to sob at once, and at the sound the little black fish all stuck their wide, greedy mouths up out of the water.
So the Gunki came running with a stretcher made out of a large mullein-leaf, and they put the Kewpie and his legs tenderly upon it. He was a trifle pale, but still smiling, and insisted that he did not suffer at all. "Only it's inconvenient, you know, not to be able to walk," he explained, "and I didn't want to miss the fun. Would it be too much trouble could you take me this way?
It was quite hard for the stretcher-bearers, but they bore up manfully; and the Kewpie never lost his arch, heroic smile. Suddenly Schlorge, who was ahead, came stealing back to them. "Hist!" he cried, and all the Gunki hissed venomously. "I saw it light in an am-bush just to the left of that big rock.
I want to go!" "There, there, dear," said the Teacup, soothingly, looking as if she had been dreading the worst, and it had come. "We has orders, Miss," said the First Gunkus, stepping up, "that we must keep you here three-quarters of an hour, and show you the whole Vale, Miss." "Whose orders?" faltered Sara. For a moment the Gunki looked quite wild and disorganized.
The Gunki had already formed a line to Schlorge's smithy, and were briskly sending scuttlefuls of the hateful fragments down the line. "I I'm sorry I was so useless," apologized the Plynck with deep humility, looking down upon her faithful friends. But they one and all began to protest that she had not been needed in the least.
"Oh, do hurry!" cried Sara, clapping her hands so recklessly that Schlorge looked up from his work to say, "Take care I don't mend them knuckles ones, you know." So Sara sat down very quietly on the snow near by, keeping a watchful eye out for the Gunki with the keen ice-sickles, and sitting very still so that she would not disturb Schlorge.
The speech was in the form of a duet, rendered by the Gunki with deep feeling, and accompanied by the Plynck and her Echo with liquid-sounding arpeggios on their lyres, that were most appropriate. The Toast was old-fashioned jelly-cake, with Robinsong wine.
She thought, too, that the broken rules under the tree made a charming litter, and wished that the Gunki who were raking them up would leave them there instead. But they went on piling them into wheelbarrows and trundling them down the road toward the smithy. "They are taking them to be mended," said the Echo of the Plynck, who had been watching her. "We believe in conservation, you see.
The Gunki fed the tears to the two nearest, and then they all sank again, with a great splashing and flouncing. The sad ones turn into these." Sara looked where he pointed, and there, at her feet, she saw numbers of little blue-eyed flowers.
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