The Garden of the Plynck Part 12

Pirlaps saw a look of doubt and reluctance in Sara's eyes as he was about to consign the Baby to Ya.s.suh's sticky care. So he handed the Baby back to Sara and darted into a store near by where he got some clean wrapping-paper. He then rolled the Baby, in its nice white dress, up in the paper, taking care to leave its nose out, so it could breathe. Then he handed it over to Ya.s.suh, and Sara felt quite comfortable and contented. "Keep out of the sun," he called back to Ya.s.suh, "and mind you don't melt!"

The next thing, Avrillia said, was to stop in a drug store. They found one quite readily, and Sara watched with astonished eyes while Avrillia purchased a very large stock of drugs. Even a fairy drug store is a disagreeable place to a child with a past like Sara's, and if this one had not had a show-case full of candies for her to look at she would have been exceedingly restless. But the bonbons were charming--of all shapes and colors, and almost as large as a pinhead.

Sara was really suffering from curiosity to know what Avrillia was going to do with the medicines, but she had already asked so many questions that she thought she would try to be very polite, and wait.

Waiting was made easier by the fact that the poorer quarter of the city, through which they were now walking, was very queer and interesting. It was like most such places, but Sara had not seen many, and she was fascinated by the babies tumbling about on the sidewalk, and the clothes-lines on the upstairs porches with clothes drying on them. Once a goat in an alley looked up and spoke to her--but she did not understand what he said. His mouth was full; for he was eating a tin can that looked strangely like Sara's old thimble.

Presently they stopped before a mean-looking house and Avrillia knocked. Now, you often hear that word applied to quite innocent houses that are only plain and poor; but this one really was mean-looking. And Sara noticed with wonder that there was a red flag over the door.

A disagreeable-looking woman with watery eyes and her handkerchief to her nose opened the door; and then, at the sound of Avrillia's voice, there swarmed out from the rooms on both sides of the hall a crowd of the most unattractive children! They fairly mobbed Avrillia, all talking at once and s.n.a.t.c.hing at the bottles which they could see sticking out of Avrillia's basket. They had the reddest faces Sara had ever seen, and no manners at all; for without even asking permission they began to drink out of the bottles, quarreling among themselves into the bargain.

Sara drew as far away from them as she could; and while Avrillia was talking kindly to the woman and the children (who didn't listen to her), and also to an old man who sat hunched over a stove in the corner, she whispered to Pirlaps, "Who are they?"

"Why, the Measles, of course," said Pirlaps. "I told you we were coming to see them! They live with their mother, Mrs. Sneeze, and their grandfather, Old Man Cough. Avrillia thinks she can help them, but they're a shiftless lot. Haven't a particle of get-up-and-go!

Always waiting for somebody to take 'em!"

Avrillia was too much interested to notice what Sara and Pirlaps were doing. "Now, children," she was saying kindly but severely, "I shall expect to find you better the next time I come. No, you can't have that bottle--that's for the Mumps."

Sara found, as they left the house, that the Mumps were an old couple who lived only a few doors down the same street. Old Mr. Mump had once made a fortune in the pickle-business; but he had had reverses, and was now very old and poor.

They found the old couple sitting in front of their rickety grate, with their jaws tied up in red flannel. The old man evidently had a vicious temper, but he was plainly glad to see Avrillia. The old lady was more mild and tearful; and both were overjoyed to get the medicine.

As they went out into the street again, Sara gave a sigh of relief; but Avrillia looked quite rapt and uplifted.

Sara was anxious to see if any mishap had overtaken Ya.s.suh and the Baby; but when they had hurried back to the restaurant they found Ya.s.suh still awake and the Baby still asleep. Pirlaps took off the sticky paper and handed him, as clean as ever, back to Sara, who was very glad that she had not exposed him to those dreadful diseases.

They caught the scallop-sh.e.l.l boat, though they had to run for it, and they were quite quiet all the way home. Avrillia sat by the rail, watching the gulls, and dreaming; and Sara strained her eyes for a long time to catch the last glimpse of the little magic, toy City of Zinariola. She was still lost in memories when the boat sc.r.a.ped on the beach; and then they climbed the little path among the cliffs through the sunset. As soon as they reached the house Pirlaps sat emphatically down on his step, remarking, "My, but it's good to be at home!" But Avrillia hurried off to her balcony, murmuring absent-mindedly, "I must write a poem about streets!"

As for Sara, she sped along the little curly path in the dusk toward the ivory doors. And there, in front of the dimple-holder, stood the Gunkus in livery, still bowing low, holding his left shoe in his right hand over his faithful heart.

Sara was much ashamed of having forgotten him, and she had no money with her; but she had a postage stamp in her pocket, from which the puppy had licked the mucilage. This she gave him.

It was, in all other respects, a perfectly good stamp. And the faithful Gunkus seemed much pleased.

Chapter VIII The Vale of Tears

Such a thing had never happened before, and how it happened this time I am at a loss to understand: but when Sara entered the Garden on this particular morning her eyes were full of tears. She had to fumble blindly around for her dimples, and when she did find them they were buried quite deep in her little wet cheeks. She would have strayed right on into the Garden without removing them, except that as soon as she saw the Snimmy's wife, absorbed in some simple domestic task, and sitting on her own toadstool at the door of the prose-bush with her tail wrapped so tightly around the base, she felt that she might smile after a while, and then it might be too late to save the dimples from the Snimmy. But before they had touched the whipped cream cushion in the bottom of the holder, two Gunki rushed forward in great excitement, and seizing her by the arms, began to hurry her through the Garden, crying hoa.r.s.ely,

"She's crying! She's crying! She mustn't cry here!"

Sara had never had a Gunkus touch her before; but, though they hurried her so fast that she was breathless, and the tears hung where they were on her lashes without having time to fall, they were as gentle with her as possible, and she understood that their anxiety was all on her account. She was further rea.s.sured when she saw the Teacup fluttering and hopping along--now on one side, now on the other, and now in front--and murmuring, "What in Zeelup, my dear?" with the utmost solicitude expressed on her gentle old face. Sara knew that the Teacup was timid, and seldom left the Garden; and she realized that her affection and concern for her must be very deep, to bring her fluttering along with her in this fashion, without stopping to ask the Plynck, or to think of the consequences to herself and her consanguineous handle.

By this time they had pa.s.sed through the hawthorn hedge that bounded the Garden, and could see just below them a beautiful little Vale, with a rainbow arching over the entrance to it, like a gate. Inside the Vale the view was not very distinct, for streamers of light mist blew across its green moss, and its white boulders, and the little stream that wound down the middle of it. It was rather a sad-looking little place, of course, but not bitter-looking or very long; and now and then a sun-pencil struck across it, and for a moment made more rainbows like the one at the entrance.

As soon as they had pa.s.sed through the hedge the Gunki stopped, breathing heavily and mopping their brows with their hatbands.

"Rest a minute, dear, and try to keep them from falling," said the Teacup, who was also breathless, but very kind. "Of course, if they should fall here it wouldn't be so bad; still, if you can keep them on your lashes till we reach the Vale--"

"What would they do," asked Sara, in awe, "if they fell in the Garden?"

The Teacup and the Gunki looked at each other with wide, horrified eyes, each waiting for the other to speak.

"Well, you see, none ever have fallen in the Garden," said the Teacup, at last, speaking in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper.

"Before my Saucer was broken--"

"She's a widow, Miss," explained the Gunki, whispering to Sara behind their hands. One whispered in baritone, one in ba.s.s.

"Before my Saucer was broken," continued the Teacup, with a grateful look at the thoughtful Gunki, "I've heard him say that a little girl came into the Garden one day with tears in her eyes, and that one would have fallen, if a Gunkus had not caught it in his shoe. Haven't you noticed the old, gray-haired Gunkus, who always wears a wooden medal on his coat-tail--"

"Our grandfather," whispered the Gunki, behind their hands. This time they whispered in second ba.s.s and tenor.

"Yes, the grandfather of these dear boys," said the susceptible old lady. "He was showing the little girl about the Garden, and so had his shoe in his hand out of respect for her; so he caught the tear in his shoe with the greatest presence of mind, and ran down here with it before any actual harm was done. What the child was crying about I can't imagine; though, for that matter, why any nice child should bring tears into the Garden--"

"Would it be worse than the Fractions?" asked Sara, hastily.

"It would," said the First Gunkus, in ba.s.s.

"It would," said the Second Gunkus, in the solemnest second ba.s.s.

"Much, much worse," said the Teacup, in her soft, anxious tremolo.

"One snow remedied that, you see; but if a tear fell--but oh, dear, let's don't talk about it! My handle is so consanguineous, and I forgot to ask the Plynck--and--and--"

The poor old lady was evidently growing hysterical herself; so the faithful Gunki hastily put up their hatbands, seized Sara by the arm, and again began hurrying toward the Rainbow Gate. The Teacup, having again to put her mind on the task of keeping up with them, regained her composure--at least as much of it as she had ever had since her Saucer was broken.

Once inside the little arch, the Gunki stopped and relaxed their hold on Sara's arm. "Now you can cry, Miss," they said, with evident relief.

"But I don't want to, now," said Sara, wonderingly.

"Treatment successful," said the First Gunkus.

"That's what usually happens," explained the Teacup. "At least I've heard my Saucer say that that's what happened to the other little girl. But here, boys, you must attend to these two she's already cried."

The two Gunki stepped up with alacrity, a little ashamed of having to be reminded of their duties.

"Mad or sad?" they asked.

"Wh-what?" stammered Sara.

"Mad or sad?" repeated the Gunki, twirling their thumbs.

"They mean, my dear," explained the Teacup, "were you crying because you were angry, or for some more or less legitimate reason--because you cut your finger, for instance, or broke one of the charming children you had with you the other day? Because--"

"It was because Jimmy wouldn't play what I wanted--" began Sara, hanging her head, and thinking she might as well get it out and over with.