Then he sprang from the stump and went rushing straight down thelittle dim path, shouting back over his shoulder, "Come along, all ofyou! Sara, ask the Plynck to come, too!"
Down the path they went tumbling--the Snimmy, his wife, a crowd ofGunki, and all the dolls. Sara and the faithful little Teacup stayedbehind to see if the Plynck would come, and the Snoodle was stillasleep.
"Will you come with us, dear Madame Plynck?" asked Sara, softly,looking up into the tree; and "Do you think you could stand it?"fluttered the Teacup solicitously.
"It's against my rules to leave the Garden," said the Plynck, andSara's heart sank; for she really thought the search would be a sortof picnic, and she had hoped that the lovely Plynck would go, too. Itsank clear to the bottom of the pool, and the Plynck's Echo fished itup and handed it back to her, all wet and shiny, just as the Plynckfinished her sentence, "So I think I'll go."
Sara clapped her hands, and to add to her pleasure she heard just thenthe most delicious crashing sound: the kind of sound she had imaginedwhen she stood at the top of the basement steps at home with the glasspitcher in her hands, wishing she could hurl it down upon the cementbecause Mother would not let her wear her new short-sleeved dress. Shesaw at once that the Plynck had broken the largest rule she had, anddropped it upon the pile at the foot of the tree; and now she wasmoving her plumes softly for flight, so that the golden spice wasfalling in Sara's hair. The Teacup was looking intensely pleased andflustered, and both of them had forgotten the poor Echo, who wasscrambling about the rim of the pool like a swimmer trying to drawhimself out of the water by a slippery bank. When she saw Sara lookingat her, however, she stopped trying, and sat down stiffly in her usualplace.
"I can't go, of course," she said with dignity, "but go ahead--don'tmind me."
"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry!" said the Plynck, hovering over hersoftly. "I wish you could!"
"Go ahead," said the Echo, trying hard not to look sulky and virtuous;and so Sara ran down the path after the others, with the Plynck andthe Teacup fluttering gracefully over her head. As she passed throughthe hedge she cast a backward look at the Garden, which was now sostill that she thought it looked like a picture in a dream--shimmeringand bright and clear, without a soul left at home but the Plynck'scerulean Echo and the sleeping Snoodle.
As soon as they passed through the hedge they found themselves in apicturesque broken country, rather difficult to traverse, but veryprettily decorated with rocks, streams, and waterfalls. Little grovesof cedars, the exact size and shape of Christmas-trees, grew out ofthe rocks; the candles were already full-grown, but Schlorge sent theJapanese doll running back to tell Sara that she must not light them,as they would not be ripe till Christmas Eve. Sara had never seen aprettier place, but she was rather worried by a maternal anxiety aboutthe dolls. For it was certainly not a very safe place for them. Ofcourse the Brown Teddy-Bear and the Billiken were all right, thoughthe latter might come to grief if he should fall on his head. TheJapanese doll, who had lost a hand, was unbreakable; but unbreakableonly means that you may be dropped from a reasonable height uponhard-wood floors, but not from a second-story window on concrete orasphalt. That was how the Japanese doll had lost his hand (it wouldhave been his head, but for the fact that the accident happened whilehe was indisposed from neuralgia, and had his head pinned up in theBaby's flannel petticoat). And these rocks certainly looked as hard asany pavement. And even as Sara worried, the worst happened: she hearda dreadful cracking sound, followed by a shrill clamor from the dollsand a hoarse cry from Schlorge, and the grim, excited voice of theSnimmy's wife. It was by no means a pleasant sound, like the crackingof breaking rules: no, it was the familiar, heart-rending sound thatmakes the heart of any mother of dolls turn cold. Sara went leapingand scrambling down the rocks, with the Plynck and the Teacup hoveringanxiously over her. In a few moments she reached the scene of theaccident, and found them all gathered around the Kewpie, who lay inthe lap of the Snimmy's wife with both legs broken. Sara ran and kneltbeside her.
"Now, here, don't you go and burst into tears," said Schlorge,speaking in the gruff tone an anxious doctor uses toward an excitablepatient. "I'll have my hands full mending your baby here, withouthaving to mend you. He has no internal injuries," he added, turningthe Kewpie upside down and peering down the stumps of his legs (whichwere hollow) into a perfectly pink and smooth and healthy-lookinginterior, "and you might have. Besides, we'll fix it up all right."
"Can you really, Schlorge?" asked Sara. There were tears in her voice,but, by trying very hard, she did keep from bursting into them.
"Of course I can!" said Schlorge, speaking quite crossly to concealhis sympathy. "Here--you Gunki! A stretcher!"
So the Gunki came running with a stretcher made out of a largemullein-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 notsuffer at all.
"Only it's inconvenient, you know, not to be able to walk," heexplained, "and I didn't want to miss the fun. Would it be too muchtrouble--could you take me this way? These gentlemen, now--"
"Sure!" said the four Gunki at once, in tenor, baritone, bass, andsecond bass. Sara, even in her distress, was charmed; for that was thefirst time she had heard a Gunkus speak.
"Are you sure you won't faint from loss of air?" asked Schlorgelooking at the patient anxiously; and indeed the air was pouring in asteady stream out of the Kewpie's inside.
"I'll be all right--only take me along," maintained the Kewpie,valiantly.
So they all started on again across the rough, uncharted country.
Now, all this time they had not had so much as a glimpse of Sara'slaugh. The Snimmy ran along ahead with his long, quivering,debilitating nose to the ground; and two or three times he raised it,and said in an excited undertone, to Schlorge, "It touched here." Andthen they would all look anxiously about, under every rock, and behindevery stump, without finding a trace of it.
But after they had gone a long way, and were all getting tired andthirsty (not to say hungry) they came to a most inviting little grovearound a spring; and here, with one accord, they all threw themselvesdown to rest. The Teacup, with an arch look, dropped down to thespring, filled herself with water, and fluttered up to Sara's lips,saying softly, "Allow me, my dear!" Sara drank, in delight and wonder,and found that the spring was not made of water, but of a sort ofsuper-lemonade, the most delicious beverage she had ever tasted. Aftershe had drunk, the Teacup took a drink to the Plynck, explaining toher with an apologetic smile, "I served her first, my dear, becauseshe was the guest of honor--so to speak," and the Plynck assented mostgraciously. Then the kind-hearted and democratic little Teacupperformed the same gracious office for the whole company, one afterthe other--even the Baby doll and the Gunki who bore the stretcher.But the Billiken did look very funny drinking out of the Teacup; andit was just at that moment that they were startled by a littlegurgling sound in the tree above them (as if a Brownie had overturneda blue honey-pitcher, and the little drops were tumbling over eachother upon a silver floor) and Sara's lost laugh sprang from the topof the tree to the ground, and went tinkling off again among therocks. They all looked after it with their mouths open, as a fishermangazes at the hook from which he has just lost the largest fish thatever was on sea or land.
"There, now! If we had only been more watchful!" exclaimed theJapanese doll. The pink tulle lady-doll hat had slipped far back onhis perspiring head; he looked as if he had come a long way.
"I thought I saw something moving up in the tree--I was just going tospeak about it," said the plucky little Kewpie, who, being compelledto lie on his back, had been gazing straight up into the branches.
"Well!" said Schlorge grimly. "It won't do that again."
They all saw that Schlorge had something on his mind, and began towatch him as he took his gimlet out of his pocket and began to cut asmall willow wand.
"What are you going to do, Schlorge?" asked the Japanese doll, who wasa good sort of a person, but
a little lacking in tact.
"Never mind me," said Schlorge, "the rest of you take a nap!"
Sara saw that his professional pride, as the leader and practical manof the party, had been hurt by the escape of her laugh; and he spokeso crossly that they all turned around and began to try to makeconversation to cover their embarrassment. But they didn't succeedvery well; and presently the Baby spoke the thought that was uppermostin everybody's mind.
"I'm hungry!" he said.
Alas, so were they all! It was no use trying to disguise it! So theSnimmy said, almost tearfully, "Why didn't we think to bring somelunch?"
"Humph!" retorted his wife. "You'd never think of anything--exceptdimples!"
So saying, she took down a large hamper which she had been carrying onher head, and removed the cloth which was tucked neatly over it. Theyhad all noticed the hamper, but supposed it was Avrillia's wash, whichthe Snimmy's wife always took home on Poppyday.
Now it proved to be packed full of a rich and varied picnic luncheon,the sight and aroma of which made even the Brown Teddy-Bear lookeager. The Snimmy's wife set all the viands out on the grass, and thePlynck graciously drifted down and took her place at the head of thetable. There was a trifle too much sand in the sandwiches, buteverything else was perfect; and they all ate as immoderately aspeople do at picnics.
Sara found herself seated next to the Brown Teddy-Bear. After he hadeaten a pickle or two and begun to look cheerful, she asked him,tactfully, what he had had so long on his mind.
"I'll tell you, Sara," said the Brown Teddy-Bear candidly andmournfully. "I'm so ephemeral."
Sara opened her eyes, and looked at him carefully. What new afflictionwas this? "Do you mean you're sick?" she asked, after a while.
"No, Sara," said the Teddy-Bear, smiling sadly. "You don't understand.What I mean is, I'm already old-fashioned; I've had my day. Twentyyears from now, nobody will know what you mean when you speak of aTeddy-Bear."
"I will," said Sara, squeezing his paw affectionately.
"Well, perhaps you will, Sara," admitted the Teddy-Bear, "becauseyou'll remember. But the children won't, and they're the only onesthat matter."
"I'll tell mine," insisted Sara stoutly.
"Ah, yes, Sara," said the Teddy-Bear, still more sadly, "but suchloyalty as yours is rare. I have but a frail hold upon posterity. Thesame is true of many of my colleagues--the Billiken, for instance, andthe Kewp. But the Billiken is a philosopher, and doesn't care; and theKewp is a careless child. But I feel it, Sara; I have to confess toyou that I am a prey to the 'last infirmity of noble minds.'" After amoment he added, less sadly but more irritably, "That creature, now,brainless as it is, is just a doll. And dolls are immortal."
"It's a Baby doll," said Sara, wishing to offer consolation, butreally not knowing what to say.
"Humph," said the Brown Teddy-Bear disgustedly. "Babies are asuniversal as dolls."
Sara was still trying to think of something pleasant to say to him,when she noticed that the Plynck, having finished her luncheon, hadflown up to a bough of the tree just over the spring; and suddenly sheheard her speak.
"Well!" she said in astonishment. "Where did you come from?"
And looking down, Sara saw the Echo of the Plynck in the water. Shelooked quite imperturbable again, and quite cerulean. "Oh, I have waysof doing things," she answered, preening her feathers. And the Plynckwas so mystified that she did not say another word.
Really, she didn't have time, for Schlorge strolled back into theirmidst at that moment, carrying a butterfly net he had just finished.The stick was made of the willow wand Sara had seen him cut; and thebag was made of two thicknesses of spider's web. "Now I'll get him,"said Schlorge grimly. "Pack up now, and let's start out again."
So all together they started out, climbing hills, and jumping acrosstumbling streams, and scrambling over rocks. It was quite hard for thestretcher-bearers, but they bore up manfully; and the Kewpie neverlost 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 anam-bush just to the left of that big rock. Now, I want you all tospread out and form a large circle, with the bush in the centre; then,if I miss it, everybody must try to shoo it back toward the middle.Don't let it pass over you."
So they all stole to the places Schlorge indicated, and then waitedbreathlessly while he stealthily approached the am-bush. The littlelaugh, feeling over-confident, must have been dozing; for it did notsee him until he was within a few feet. Then it flew out wildly, witha sound like that made by the wings of a mother bird who leaves hernest at the last moment. But it was caught at last. With one skilful,triumphant swoop Schlorge had it.
And then how it did titter and twitter and giggle and struggle! Itfanned its wings as furiously as a Zizz; it was as wild as a moon-mothin a net, or a bird you hold in your hand. And all the time, it wasabout to die with amusement.
They all gathered around to see what a darling little thing it was.Even Schlorge admired it openly; and the Snimmy's wife said grudgingly,"It sure is pretty." As for the Snimmy, he buried his face in hishands. "I can't stand it!" he groaned, and the gum-drops began tosqueeze through his fingers. "It makes him think of dimples," his wifeexplained, in a low tone, to Sara.
"'So near and yet so far,' you know," fluttered the Teacup,sympathetically.
The next thing was to decide how to get their captive home. Schlorgewas quite sure it couldn't break the net; still, he thought it best toaccept the Brown Teddy-Bear's suggestion that they put it, net and all,into the Snimmy's wife's basket, and tie the lid securely.
"'Specially since we have to go around by the Smithy," he added, "andpatch up our brittle friend, here."
So they made the little laugh secure in the basket, and went on towardthe Smithy. It kept them all amused by the happy, ridiculous littlesounds it made, giggling and scuttling and fluttering about in thebasket. Even the Brown Teddy-Bear smiled once or twice.
Toward sundown they reached the Smithy, and Schlorge had soon turnedhis anvil into an operating table, on which they laid theuncomplaining little sufferer. The Snimmy's wife said there wereplenty of onions at home in the sugar-bowl, and Schlorge offered tosend a Gunkus after them; but the Kewpie would not hear of it, soSchlorge mended him quite quickly and neatly without an anaesthetic atall. He declared himself able to walk, at once, but they persuaded himto let the Gunki carry him to the gate on the stretcher. And so theyall escorted Sara and her dolls back to the dimple-holder in state.
The Snoodle was awake, and howling lonesomely; but he was soonfrisking happily about their feet. The Plynck flew at once to herbranch and looked into the pool, and there sat her Echo.
"Have a pleasant day?" the latter asked, inscrutably.
But the Plynck was so puzzled that she said nothing at all. However,when she was leaving the Garden, Sara heard her say to the Teacup, asshe slipped on an iris-colored kimono and shook down her back plumes,
"I think I won't break any rules tomorrow. I think I'll just rest."
The Garden of the Plynck Page 11
