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It was very lovely to be trudging along under the late clear sky, through the sweet-smelling pollen-dust, and now and then meeting the sunset sheep, who, by this time, had found their little lambs. When they got back to the Garden, and stood in front of the gate through which Sara had entered, Schlorge had Sara sit down at once.
The Snimmy's wife said there were plenty of onions at home in the sugar-bowl, and Schlorge offered to send a Gunkus after them; but the Kewpie would not hear of it, so Schlorge mended him quite quickly and neatly without an anaesthetic at all. He declared himself able to walk, at once, but they persuaded him to let the Gunki carry him to the gate on the stretcher.
It would be good to think of, anyhow, she decided; and as she thought of it, the wings of the Zizz began to dry so fast that they fairly sang. And suddenly it zizzed right out of Schlorge's forceps and went buzzing straight off to the flowery hedge. "Well!" said Schlorge, with much satisfaction, "that's over." Then, as Sara's face twinkled into smiles, he added, excitedly, "Bless my bellows!
"Poor little thing!" said the Echo of the Plynck. "Why will they persist in doing it? Flying right into the syrup like that!" "It's on account of the bitterness of their tails," explained Schlorge absently, without looking up from his work. "Oh, yes," said Sara, though she didn't quite understand. "Will it ever be able to fly again?" "Well," answered Schlorge, "I'm afraid you'll have to dry it."
It was of the lovely, violent red of certain jelly-beans she had known, and she caught the most tantalizing, cavernous glimpses whenever he grinned. "Yassuh," said his master, "go at once and get a piece of plain white satin for Mr. Schlorge to stand on. You'll find a bolt in the tool-box." Yassuh scrambled off down the path. All this time Schlorge had been in an agony of impatience.
"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.
And Avrillia's house had sails, instead of curtains. For, without knowing it, it was Avrillia's balcony that Sara had seen from the stump. "Well, there's Pirlaps," said Schlorge, lifting his shoe politely and turning back toward the Dimplesmithy. "He'll tell you where to find Avrillia."
At last, having concluded his gesture, Schlorge arranged his hands and began in a loud voice: "A little girl's mind is a place like this At least, that of one little dear girl is: Full of quaint little thoughts made of sugar and spice, And queer little notions like little white mice.
However, Sara now saw that the ground was swarming with Gunki. "Do you know who Schlorge is?" asked Sara, rather timidly. At first the Koopf only grinned. "Guess I do," he managed to say at last. Then he surprised and rather startled her by winking his left ear at her. "He's the best dimplesmith ever," he said at last. "He's he's " he began looking all about him, vaguely and a little wildly.
Schlorge jumped down and began scrambling his tools together; then he went rushing wildly, as usual, down the road to the Dimplesmithy. "Go see her, Sara!" he shouted back over his shoulder encouragingly. "You'll enjoy it! Go on!" And from there she looked out upon another exhilarating scene.
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