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"I meant to take off my dimples entirely," said Sara, her lip beginning to tremble again. "Never mind, dear," said the Plynck. "It will be all right now. I see Schlorge coming with his forceps." And sure enough, in a moment Schlorge came panting up, with his forceps in his hair, as usual.
Some like her, and some don't. The Plynck, here," he spoke respectfully, though dissentingly, "thinks the sun rises and sets in her. For myself, I like folks of a more sensible turn." "Even fairies?" asked Sara, half inclined to protest. For the first time Schlorge was almost rude to her. "Well, do you take me for a human? And I can do something besides write poetry on rose-leaves."
She snapped it easily with one golden claw, dropped the fragments, and reached out with careless grace for another. "Oh," breathed Sara, clasping her hands. And she could not help adding, shyly, "If I could only see you when you fly Madame Plynck!" Sara was very proud of herself after she had said that.
It was by no means a pleasant sound, like the cracking of breaking rules: no, it was the familiar, heart-rending sound that makes the heart of any mother of dolls turn cold. Sara went leaping and scrambling down the rocks, with the Plynck and the Teacup hovering anxiously over her.
Sara's would be an awful plight To go home laughterless tonight." Then he sprang from the stump and went rushing straight down the little dim path, shouting back over his shoulder, "Come along, all of you! Sara, ask the Plynck to come, too!" Down the path they went tumbling the Snimmy, his wife, a crowd of Gunki, and all the dolls.
It read, "In Honor of Sara. Because She is Older than the Snoodle!" It was made of white and pink gum-drops, and they told her afterward that the Snimmy had sat up all night to weep them. The Plynck furnished the electricity by smiling every little while. This lit up the pink and white gum-drops, till they looked like the tiny globes on the Wooded Island at the Park.
My handle is so consanguineous, and I forgot to ask the Plynck and and " The poor old lady was evidently growing hysterical herself; so the faithful Gunki hastily put up their hatbands, seized Sara by the arm, and again began hurrying toward the Rainbow Gate.
And among them, with her happy golden feet in the snow, and her rosy plumes fluffed out, sat the Plynck, looking as softly dazzling as a snowy sunrise. An army of Gunki were busily mowing the deep snow with scintillating long-handled ice-sickles. It flew up in clouds as they mowed, and another army of Gunki was engaged in catching it in baskets and spreading it smoothly down again.
Yes, I said shut the doors and went in; for that is what you do when you go into your head. The doors were of ivory, draped with tinted damask curtains which were trimmed with black silk fringe. The curtains fell noiselessly behind Sara as she entered. And there in the Gugollaph-tree by the pool sat the Plynck, gazing happily at her Echo in the water.
She was almost ready to cry; and to keep from being quite ready, she suggested, tremulously, "Do you suppose I could go after the onions?" The Plynck looked at her in surprise. "Why, didn't you bring them with you?" she said. Then, suddenly, she noticed how threateningly the Snimmy was dancing and squeaking around Sara's feet, and how Sara was shrinking away from him.
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