“Oh, that’s lovely,” said Avrillia, looking at Pirlaps gratefully out of her speaking eyes.  “There’s nobody like you, Pirlaps.”

Pirlaps looked wonderfully pleased with himself; and, since there was not a bit of chocolate on his trousers, he looked unusually spruce and handsome, too.  Sara skipped along beside him delightedly; only, sometimes when she looked back, she wished she could stay with Avrillia while she was in such a lovely mood, and all those interesting children.  Still, Sara’s dear, self-willed mother had taught her to be a considerate little girl, and she reflected that she really ought not to bother Avrillia with another child, when she already had seventy to look after.  The thoughts of Pirlaps also seemed to be running in the same channel (indeed, Sara could catch glimpses of them, trickling along under that thin, funny cap he always wore), and he presently said,

“It’s too bad to bring you away when the children are at home, Sara, but you know they are a great deal of care to Avrillia, and when they’re at home I try to do everything I can to relieve her.  Now, you see, she won’t have to bother about my trousers for the whole afternoon.”

“But how can you get along without your step?” asked Sara.  She knew this was a personal question, but she felt, somehow, that Pirlaps would not think her impolite.

He looked down at her and smiled, just as her own father did when she asked questions which showed her youth and inexperience.

“I’m not a step-man, Sara,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her lack of information, “only a step-husband.  When I’m away from Avrillia I don’t need the step.”

All this time they had been walking along hand in hand.  Sara noticed that they had left the Verge behind, and were following a very pleasant sort of ridge, from which they could see down into a sort of hollow for smiles and smiles, and, beyond the hollow, the buff-colored hills and mountains that formed the walls of the amphitheatre.  There were not so many Gugollaph-trees as there were in the Garden and along the road to the Dimplesmithy, owing to the different topography of the country; instead, there were a good many poker-bushes.

“My relations live in a colony,” said Pirlaps.  “There used to be nearly seven hundred of them; but now there are only eight hundred and three.”

And just at that moment they came in sight of the colony.  It consisted in a large number of odd, attractive-looking little houses grouped around an open space covered with pleasant red grass, which Pirlaps told her was an uncommon.  In the middle of the uncommon was a sort of platform, and upon the platform there was something which Sara, at first glance, took to be an enormous statue.  But even at that distance she could see it move; so she hastened to ask Pirlaps what it was.

“Why, that’s my Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather,” said Pirlaps, with a good deal of pride.  “He occupies the Post of Honor in the colony, you know, because he’s the oldest and the largest.  He’s really great, and quite pleasant; you’ll enjoy meeting him.”