“The only part I haven’t been able to work out,” said Pirlaps, with a worried look, “is this:  How can we reduce the Poetry to a powdered form fast enough to be effective?”

This was a problem indeed; and everybody thought deeply and desperately.  Avrillia, Sara could see, was already so absorbed in making the poems that she didn’t even hear; but it was an agonizing moment for the rest of them.  It did not last long, however; for the Snimmy’s wife stepped forward and said triumphantly, in her deep, cross voice, “My coffee-mill!”

“Ah, these practical people!” cried Pirlaps, rubbing his hands delightedly.  “Now for our organization.  Avrillia, have you plenty of rose-leaves?”

“An extra supply,” answered Avrillia, raptly.  “Yassuh filled the leaf-closet only yesterday.  How fortunate!”

“Then the problem of transportation,” said Pirlaps, greatly pleased.  “There must be no break—­”

“The Gunki will bring ’em,” said Schlorge, decisively.  “Here, you!” he shouted; and a swarm of Gunki came tumbling out from under the adjacent bushes.  “Bring your coal-scuttles!” he shouted; and each Gunkus scuttled back, reappearing in a moment with the desired receptacle.

“Good!” said Pirlaps.  “Stand at attention until I give you further orders.”  And each Gunkus stood perfectly still and straight, holding his coal-scuttle by the handle between his teeth, and dropping his eyes into it.  They hit the bottom of the scuttle with a ringing, martial sound.

“Now,” said Pirlaps, “how many hands for the bellows?  Avrillia will be busy writing poems; Mrs. Snimmy will be busy grinding them.  That leaves Schlorge, Sara, Mr. Snimmy and myself.  Four pairs of bellows—­how fortunate!” He then explained to the Gunki that they were to march straight to Avrillia’s balcony and form an unbroken line from there to the Snimmy’s wife’s coffee-mill, on the front porch of the prose-bush; and that they were to pass the scuttles full of loaded rose-leaves in a steady stream, as fast as they could.  The last Gunkus was to empty the scuttles into the coffee-mill.

In a very short time they had this plan in execution.  When they slipped back into the Garden they found that the Fractions had been drinking so heavily that many of them were snoring loudly under the multiplication tables; and the rest were carousing so uproariously that they took no notice whatever of the preparations for their overthrow.  The Snimmy’s wife took her station grimly at the coffee-mill; Pirlaps, Schlorge, Sara and the Snimmy grouped themselves about her, and in a very few minutes the first scuttleful of poems arrived.  The first Gunkus emptied them into the mill; Mrs. Snimmy began to grind violently; the gunners, with hands trembling with excitement, loaded their bellows.  Even in this terrible moment Sara could not help noticing what a lovely stuff the powder was—­a blue and silver dust, with a delicate fragrance like sachet powder.  Surely