it could not harm anybody!  She felt a sinking of the heart; but she kept her eyes on Pirlaps, and his splendid, confident bearing helped to reassure her.  And when he said, “A—­B—­C!” they all fired simultaneously.  And oh, glorious success!  It was clear that the poem-dust was absolutely deadly to the enemy.  At the first shot the Least Common Multiple and a number of privates fell out of their chairs, as dead as if they had been caught between the covers of an arithmetic!  Moreover, the poem-dust that filled the air seemed to tend to stupefy the others; so that, though there was a terrible uproar and a desperate scramble for weapons, victory for the defenders was certain from the start.  There was only one defect in the organization; one thing had escaped Pirlaps’ wonderful foresight.  There was no efficient way to get the powder from the coffee-mill to the bellows; and in the loading much time was wasted and much ammunition spilled.  While Pirlaps was looking about him with great anxiety, trying to think of some way to remedy the trouble, the little Teacup came fluttering tremulously down from above.  “Let me do it!” she cried; and while they all looked on in admiration (though with only one eye apiece, since the other was busy aiming at the enemy) she proceeded to load one pair of bellows after another, with the utmost nicety and plenty of poetry-powder.  A little was spilled, to be sure, because she trembled so terribly; still, it was an enormous improvement, and they all praised and congratulated the Teacup.

“Ah, these sheltered women!” said Pirlaps.  “How an emergency does bring them out!”

The battle must have raged for nearly an hour; but at the end of that time there was not so much as a One-Twenty-Second left alive.  The Greatest Common Divisor, as befitted his rank, was the last to succumb; and when he went down the defenders of the Garden threw down their weapons and began tossing their shoes into the air and shaking each others’ hands and talking all at once.  The Gunki passed the word down the line to Avrillia, who presently came floating in, with her wild eyes shining and her pale-gold hair rumpled, and her golden swan’s-quill still in her hand; and everybody fell upon her with congratulations.  But, indeed, everybody was congratulating everybody else, and calling him or her the hero or heroine of the day.  Schlorge was doubly cordial to Avrillia because he felt that he had underestimated her; and for the same reason Pirlaps was particularly delighted with the Teacup and the Snimmy’s wife—­whom, to tell the truth, he had always considered very ordinary women.  The Teacup fluttered and laughed nervously, murmuring, whenever anybody praised her, “If my handle hadn’t been so consanguineous—­” But the Snimmy’s wife merely smiled grimly, as much as to say that she had always thought they would all come to their senses sooner or later.

Presently the Snimmy, who had been sniffing about the fallen invaders, suggested, “What’s to be done with the remains, begging everybody’s pardon?”