The Garden of the Plynck | Page 2

forgotten something," she said gently, looking
down into her Teacup.
Sara examined herself anxiously. She knew it was something about
herself, because the Plynck's tone was exactly like Mother's when she
wished to remind Sara, without seeming officious, that she had not
wiped her feet on the mat, or spread out her napkin, or remembered to
say "Thank you" at the exact psychological moment.
Sara was extremely anxious to please the Plynck, because she thought
her so pensive and pretty; but, try as she would, she couldn't think what
she had forgotten to do.
"Does a little girl wear her dimples in The House?" asked the Plynck,
still more gently.
"Oh, of course not!" said Sara, taking them off hastily. But she could
not help adding, as she looked around appreciatively at the silver
bushes and the blue plush grass and the alabaster moon-dial by the
fountain, "But this isn't The House, is it?"
"Isn't it?" asked the Plynck, glancing uneasily about her. What she saw
startled her so much that she dropped her Teacup. Of course it flew up
to a higher branch and balanced itself there instead of falling; but the

poor little thing was so round and fat, that--especially as it hadn't any
feet--it had some difficulty at first in perching. As for the Plynck, she
seemed so embarrassed over her mistake that Sara felt dreadfully
uncomfortable for her. Recovering herself, however, in a moment, she
said in her sweet, gentle way,
"Well, dear, you wouldn't want the Zizzes to fall into them, even if this
isn't The House--would you?"
Sara hadn't noticed until then that the air was full of Zizzes; but the
minute she saw their darling little vibrating wings she knew that she
wouldn't for anything have one of them come to grief in her dimples.
They were more like hummingbirds than anything she had ever seen
outside of her head, but of course they were not nearly so large; most of
them were about a millionth-part as large as a small mosquito. She
noticed, too, that their tails were bitter. If it had not been for the
bitterness of their tails, she would not have felt so uneasy about them;
as it was, she held the dimples tight in her hand, with the concave side
next her palm.
"Avrillia's at home," said the Plynck gently, with her eyes on her
Teacup, which she was gradually charming back into her hand. (Her
hands were feet, you know, like a nightingale's, only golden; but she
called them hands in the afternoon, to match her Teacup.) The timid
little thing was fluttering back, coming nearer twig by twig; and it
trembled up to the Plynck just as she said, softly and absent-mindedly,
"Avrillia's at home."
"Oh, is she?" exclaimed Sara, clapping her hands with joy. She did not
know who Avrillia was; nevertheless, it somehow seemed delightful to
hear that she was at home. But alas and alas! when she clapped her
hands she forgot all about the dimples she had been holding so
carefully. To tell the truth, she had never taken them off before; but she
was ashamed to let the Plynck know about that, especially as she had
lived in The House all her former life. Her first thought, indeed, when
she realized what had happened, was to conceal the catastrophe from
the Plynck; but before she could get her breath that gentle bird startled
her almost out of her wits by shrieking,

"Watch out! the Snimmy will get it!"
And there, at Sara's feet, where a bit of the dimple lay on the taffy
(looking very much like a fragile bit of a Christmas-tree ornament),
was a real Snimmy, vest-pocket and all. His tail was longer than that of
most Snimmies, and his nose was sharper and more debilitating, but
you would have known him at once, as Sara did, for a Snimmy. She
thought, too, that he trembled more than most of them, and that he was
whiter and more slippery. Ordinarily, she had never felt afraid of
Snimmies; but the startling shriek of the Plynck, and the exposed
position of her dimple, set her to jumping wildly up and down. And,
indeed, the worst would have happened, had not the Echo of the Plynck,
with great presence of mind, cried out', "Cover it! Cover it!" And at that
cry the Teacup fluttered hastily down and turned itself upside down
over the piece of dimple. And there it sat, panting a little, but looking
as plump and pleased as possible, though the Snimmy was still dancing
and sniffing ferociously around its rim.
"There!" said the Plynck in her own gentle voice, though it still shook
with excitement. "It's a mercy you settled without breaking." Then,
turning to Sara, "And goodness knows how we'll