the sound the Zizz made that they kept quite still. Suddenly Schlorge
thought of something.

"Where's the Snimmy?" he asked, sharply.

"He's gone with his wife to bathe the Snoodle," answered the Echo of
the Plynck. "They have to bathe it every three days, you know, in
castor oil. That's what keeps it white. And there isn't any here."

"Thank goodness!" thought Sara, who had nearly jumped off the stump at
the sound of those baleful syllables. It would be good to think of,
anyhow, she decided; and as she thought of it, the wings of the Zizz
began to dry so fast that they fairly sang. And suddenly it zizzed
right out of Schlorge's forceps and went buzzing straight off to the
flowery hedge.

"Well!" said Schlorge, with much satisfaction, "that's over." Then, as
Sara's face twinkled into smiles, he added, excitedly, "Bless my
bellows! She's still got on her dimples! Won't you learn, Sara? Course
I didn't notice 'em while you frowned. Come, now--"

"And it's time for the Snimmy to be back," interrupted the Teacup, who
had fluttered down and perched on the edge of the moon-dial to see
what time it was. "They said they'd only be gone two hours."

"Then there's no time to lose," said Schlorge. He pressed Sara's
shoe-button decidedly and she floated softly down upon the blue plush,
like a milk-weed seed in the fall. And then Schlorge deftly took off
her dimples--it felt very funny to have them removed with the
forceps--and put them in the dimple-holder where they belonged. Then,