The Garden of the Plynck Part 16

He now stepped up to Sara, who stood looking about her with surprise and wonder, and said, "Well, Sara, this is your day. You are the guest of honor, and we're all proud of you. We hope you'll have the pleasantest time you ever had."

Sara was as charmed as she was bewildered. She didn't say anything at first, because she didn't want them to know that she didn't quite understand what it was all about. But presently she couldn't stand not knowing any longer, so she whispered to Pirlaps,

"Is--is it a sort of birthday?"

"Well,--yes, I suppose you might call it that," answered Pirlaps, looking at her in the kind, indulgent way he had when she showed her odd little ideas and her inexperience. "Didn't you announce yesterday that you were older than the Snoodle?"

For a moment Sara felt as if she ought to explain that that was only the beginning of her speech, and that, if they had not interrupted her, she had meant to tell them that she was sorry that she had not taken more responsibility for the Snoodle, and reminded him to ask permission from the Snimmy's wife before he left the Garden. But, on reflection, she realized that they did not blame her in the least, so there was no need to make excuses; and they all seemed so delighted to find that she was older than the Snoodle! A birthday is too charming a thing to refuse, even if it's a special sort of birthday one doesn't exactly understand; so Sara decided to accept hers with a thankful heart. Besides, it must be confessed that she had caught glimpses of parcels here and there. The Plynck, she was sure, had one under her right wing; and there was no doubt that one was sticking out from under the coat-tails of the First Gunkus.

"We are to celebrate all day in your honor, Sara," added Pirlaps. "And this evening, when you are ready to go home, Schlorge will made you an address of welcome. But what can be keeping Avrillia?"

They all looked down the pathway, but no Avrillia was in sight.

Suddenly the Echo of the Plynck spoke from the pool.

"The guest of honor always goes and fetches anybody who doesn't come,"

she said.

"Does she?" asked Sara, opening her eyes wide; but Pirlaps said, "To be sure! I had forgotten. Come on, Sara. Let's go bring Avrillia."

Sara was always glad to go to Avrillia's lovely house, though she couldn't help thinking as she ran that this was one manner Mother failed to remind her of, whenever she was overhauling her manners for any especial use.

All was still about the beautiful little house where Avrillia lived, and Sara looked at it lovingly, for she had a sort of feeling somewhere deep under her little ap.r.o.n that she would not see it again for a long while. Pirlaps, who knew Avrillia pretty well, did not look in the pink bed-room, or the kitchen, or the sitting-room; no, he went straight to the balcony. And there sat Avrillia, in a mist of her bright, wild hair, so intent upon her writing that she did not see them, or hear them speak.

"Sh--sh--" said Pirlaps, in a low tone, when he saw how absorbed she was. "We'll wait till she finishes that one. Why didn't I bring my step?"

As he didn't have it, however, he leaned against the alabaster wall, and waited patiently; though Sara, it must be confessed, was quite restless. After what seemed to her a very long time, Avrillia drew a deep breath and shook back her golden hair, and moving like a lost bird to the bal.u.s.trade, leaned far out and let her new poem flutter from her hand. For another long time she did not move, straining her eyes down into the abyss. At last she straightened up with a long sigh, and, seeing them, smiled.

"Did it stick?" asked Pirlaps, eagerly.

"No," was all Avrillia said, but her voice made Sara's heart quiver, for in the sound of it she seemed to hear the temple-bells, and the fairy hand-organ she had heard in the steep street at Zinariola, and the drowsy tinkle of the fountain in the b.u.t.terfly Palace, and the little Laughs that leaped about the mountain, and the morning and evening sheep-bells, all gathered together into one sound that seemed to say that presently she would have to say good-by to Avrillia. But Avrillia, seeing her suddenly sad little face, stooped and kissed her as she had done that other morning, and patted her cheek, and said, "Oh, but I have a present for you, Sara! This is your day--we must all be very merry!" And with that she picked up something that was wrapped in several layers of silver fog and tied with a ripple, and seizing them both by the arm, went dancing with them down the path to the Garden.

Everybody applauded when they saw Pirlaps and the guest of honor returning with Avrillia; and the Teacup, unable longer to restrain her excitement, fluttered down to the rim of the pool and cried excitedly, "Now let's give the presents!"

Then something happened that came near turning the fete into a tragedy; for the Teacup lost her balance in the excitement, and splashed right over into the pool! The Plynck screamed, Schlorge whistled, the Gunki came running from every direction; but it was the Echo who saved the Teacup's life. With great presence of mind she spread out her cerulean plumes so that the Teacup settled upon them harmlessly, instead of cras.h.i.+ng down upon the hard emerald bottom and shattering to bits.

Then, of course, Schlorge could very easily reach down and draw her out.

The poor Teacup was naturally very much upset. "If my handle had not been so consanguineous--" she quavered, again and again. But, on the whole, considering her age and her timid disposition, they were all rather surprised at her fort.i.tude.

Schlorge, who was still holding her, was looking very grave. "Sara will have to frown on her," he said, "as she did on the Zizz."

"But I can't frown, today," cried Sara, in dismay.

"I know it's hard," said Schlorge.

"Or at the Teacup!" pleaded Sara.

"It's your duty, Sara," said the Echo.

"Oh, dear, it's putting off the presents!" sighed one of the oldest of Avrillia's children; then, as she looked at the poor little gentle, bedraggled Teacup, with her consanguineous handle, she felt ashamed of herself, and hid behind her mother's drapery.

As for Sara, she was indeed in distress. "If some of you would only think of something to make me frown--I can't even think of any disagreeable things today!"

"You're frowning now!" suddenly cried the First Gunkus, waving his shoe; and they all forgave him his lack of respectfulness, because he was plainly so excited.

"Hold her up, Schlorge!" cried Pirlaps, running forward.

"There--Sara--hold that expression--just a moment. Fix your eyes here--on this leaf! And keep your mind firmly on this thought: 'The Disagreeable Necessity of Frowning in the Presence of Presents.'"

Sara remembered how brave and useful she had been the day before, and concentrated her mind by a really tremendous effort. And she was soon rewarded; for in a few minutes everybody was clapping hands and waving handkerchiefs and crying, "She's dry! She's dry! Three cheers for Sara!"

Sure enough, the little Teacup was dry enough to flutter back to her perch, on which she sat throwing kisses to Sara. And then Pirlaps came forward, and taking Sara by the hand, said, "Come, Sara."

He then began leading her in a sort of triumphal march around the pool, while the rest fell in behind them and formed a procession. As there were so many of the Gunki and Avrillia's children it was quite a long procession, so that the only way they could tell the head from the tail of it was by remembering that Sara was the head and that the Snimmy's wife was the tail. The Echo, who could not leave the pool to march, spread out the lyre-shaped feathers on the top of her head and played the most beautiful rippling chords for them to march by.

And suddenly, when they had gone three times around the fountain, Pirlaps said, "Take the seat of honor, Sara, and receive our gifts."

And there, in front of the Gugollaph-tree, was an enormous frosted cake, as big around as a wagon-wheel. Sara was sure it had not been there when the march began. She would have rubbed her eyes, had she not felt that such a conventional proceeding would be wholly inadequate.

"Take your seat, Sara," said Pirlaps kindly, enjoying her delight and astonishment.

Sara came to herself with a start. "Wh-where?" she asked. She was anxious not to appear awkward, but she did not see any particular place to sit.

"On the cake, dear, of course," said Pirlaps, who seemed never to tire of smiling at her odd little questions.

Sara had never done this before, but she was willing to try; and she was just about to climb upon the cake when another thought deterred her.

"But the candles? Won't my dress catch?"

"Try and see," said Pirlaps; but Avrillia whispered in her ear, "They aren't flames, dear: they're only colored perfumes."

So, rea.s.sured, Sara took her seat on the cake; and at once she saw that it made a very nice sort of throne. The frosting was resilient, but firm; and she now saw that the candles were arranged so that they made a sort of semicircle about her. Just as Avrillia had said, she could pa.s.s her hands across their wicks without being burned at all; they only winked and breathed out sweet odors--each flame a different color and scent. They were as tall as her head, as she sat among them; and the one at her right ear was of isthagaria, while the one on the left faintly suggested tinnulalia-flowers.

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 embarra.s.sed; 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. But I do not need to tell you that Sara was; for it was one of her loveliest tail-feathers, a rich, curling plume of the deepest rose, from which sweet odors were shaken out as Sara lifted it to the light. Weeks afterward, when Sara astonished her mother by begging for the pink plume on her prettiest hat, what she was really pining for was a lock of the Plynck's hair.

Avrillia came next with her present. It was a little urn of jade and ivory, and it was full to the top of dried poems written on rose-leaves. Have you ever seen the quaint rose-jars some old-fas.h.i.+oned ladies have in their parlors? Well, some one of them, when she was little, saw one of Avrillia's poem-jars; and she made these others in a homesick effort to imitate it. And the fragrance--like nothing else you ever smelled--is the perfume of Avrillia's poems, as nearly as that little old-fas.h.i.+oned lady, after she grew up, could remember it.

You would not expect me to remember all of the presents Sara got that day. But a good many I can remember. Pirlaps brought her a picture he had painted; a very beautiful view of Nothing from Avrillia's balcony.

Ya.s.suh brought her a delicious Crumb; it was wrapped in a sticky paper covered with his finger-prints, but inside the paper was one of Avrillia's exquisite napkins of embroidered mist. The First Gunkus, remembering how she had loved the mountain, brought her a little live Laugh. He had climbed the mountain and trapped it for her, and made her a little cage to take it home with. It was very funny to hear it t.i.ttering about inside. The rest of the Gunki had clubbed together and bought her a gold-headed tuning-fork, so that she might be sure their answers were in tune. The Snimmy's wife brought her three large onions, neatly hemmed and tied in a bouquet with purple ribbon; the Snimmy himself a striped paper bag full of gum-drops. And the Snoodle's present was too cunning for anything! It was a little silver plum-extractor. With it a child could extract all the fattest raisins from her piece of mince-pie or portion of rice pudding without having to bother with the uninteresting remainder and being reprimanded; for the ingenious little instrument was invisible to adults. All the other presents were marked "For Sara, with our congratulations, because she is older than the Snoodle." But this one was marked, in a round, childish hand, "For my dear Sara--because she is older than me."

But the grand surprise came when, near the last, four Gunki hurried in bearing a large chest, which they placed at Sara's feet. "It came by the Gahoppigas Express, Miss, with no message," they explained. And when Sara opened it she found that it was full of b.u.t.terfly money--the loveliest pieces of gold and silver that the frittilaries and papilios had collected from their own wings. Just inside the lid was a lily leaf bearing the inscription,

"For Sara, from a grateful Nation, Because she is older than the Snoodle."

Sara distributed handfuls of the beautiful little coins among them and again they cheered her for her generosity. Sara felt that she really did not deserve the cheering, however, as she seemed to have as many as ever--even after she had filled Mrs. Snimmy's ap.r.o.n and a shoe apiece for each Gunkus.

When the excitement over the money had subsided a little, Pirlaps announced; "The Banquet is now ready!" and again offering Sara his arm, he led her at the head of another procession three times around the fountain; and the third time, as before, there beside the cake was the banquet table--all spread and loaded down and glittering. Of course it was quite a long table, with a good many covers; there had to be one for each of Avrillia's children and for every one of the Gunki. The covers were very thin (being made of cobweb, of course) still, having so many, spread one on top of the other, made the table quite high, so that there were step-ladders instead of chairs. As there was a step-ladder for each guest, and as they were made of gold and silver, arranged alternately, the effect was very unique and elaborate.