“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 balustrade, 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 Butterfly 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 crashing 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 fortitude.

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.