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Updated: June 14, 2025
Before she had finished examining the candles, the Plynck flew down with the first present. "A lock of my hair," she said, looking eager, but a little embarrassed; and she actually perched on the rim of the pool while Sara unwrapped it, so that she might see whether or not she was pleased.
There was just one: a little soft, straining sound the Plynck's cerulean Echo made as it circled round and round in the pool and tried to keep up with the Plynck. Her motions would have been exactly as lovely as those of the Plynck, if they had not been just a trifle labored, owing to the difficulty of flying under water; and her breathing was distinctly perceptible.
"They'd keep the Plynck supplied a whole winter." The Plynck! In the excitement of victory they had all momentarily forgotten the Plynck, though, when the fight was hottest, it had been the sight of her tragic drooping plumes among the blighted leaves that had nerved them to redoubled effort. Now Avrillia stepped softly under the tree and called gently, "O Plynck, dear Plynck!
She looked up into the tree; the Plynck, too, had fallen asleep, worn out by the unwonted excitement of the morning; and her lovely Echo also slept in the amber pool. Sara now noticed that, though the Plynck was rose-colored, her Echo was cerulean.
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.
Sara saw that, though he was still rather bashful, Schlorge had taken a great fancy to her. It pleased her very much; he was such a useful and accommodating person. While she was trying to decide which one of several places she would ask him to show to her, the Plynck remarked, gently, "Avrillia's at home." Avrillia that was it!
"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."
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 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.
"'Rillia!" came back the wild, eerie syllables, so distinctly that Sara's heart leaped. "Oh, an echo!" she cried, clapping her hands. "How beautiful!" "Bless the child!" said Pirlaps, smiling at Avrillia. "You hear a reflection, Sara; you see an echo." "Like the Echo of the Plynck in the pool," supplemented Avrillia. "Don't you remember, Sara?"
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