reasonable and familiar should sound so strange. But it was a blissful
wonder, and she stood spellbound, while the sound of breaking rules
continued to fall with an enchanting effect upon the still air of the
Garden. All at once she was startled nearly out of her wits by the
Plynck, who dropped an unbroken rule and shrieked,

"Look! Be careful! Oh, dear, oh, dear, it's in!"

"Oh, what is it?" cried Sara, afraid to move, yet longing to clap her
hand to her cheek; for she knew by a sudden terrible tickling there
that something had happened to her southwest dimple--and she had meant
to be so careful! And yet she had allowed herself to get so interested
in the talk of the Plynck and her Echo that she had walked right past
Schlorge's beautiful dimple-holder. "What is it?" she cried, jumping
up and down. "Oh, what is it?"

"It's one of the Zizzes!" cried the Plynck. "Where are the forceps?
Run for Schlorge--won't somebody please run for Schlorge?"

She sat fluttering her lovely pink plumes and gazing around with her
sweet, wild, golden eyes in such acute distress that the sight of her
grieved and terrified Sara even more than the awful tickling. "I'll
go--" she began, desperately.

But that seemed to frighten the Plynck more than ever. "Oh, don't you
go," she cried, more wildly than before. "You stay right here where I
can watch it! Oh, somebody--"

"I can't come out of the pool," panted her Echo, fluttering around the
rim distressfully.