For a moment Avrillia's eyes again grew distraught and doubtful, and
she answered, uncertainly, "I think there are just seventy." Then she
called to Pirlaps, who was sitting on his step in the light of a
glorious flame-colored fog-bush, hard at work, "Pirlaps, have we had
any children since Sara was here yesterday?"

"Not one," said Pirlaps, smiling at her with a look of pleasant
amusement. "Don't you remember that you dropped poems over the Verge
all day?"

"I thought so," said Avrillia, with relief, "but Sara seemed to think
there were more than seventy." Then her eyes fell upon the trousers of
Pirlaps, who had risen and was coming toward them now, with Yassuh
rolling along behind with the step.

"O Pirlaps," said Avrillia, her sweet voice full of reproach, "you
haven't changed your trousers! That's just the way things go," she
added, beginning to look wild and worried and distraught, "when the
children are here! I can't keep up with everything! And the
thermometer went off fifteen minutes ago! I heard it, but I was busy
with the children. And your shaving-water will be perfectly cold!" She
grew more and more agitated.

"Never mind, Avrillia," said Pirlaps, soothingly, and Sara noticed
that his pleasant, cheerful ways always had a wonderfully calming
effect upon Avrillia. "I'm going right in now to change; and then I
have a plan that will straighten things out and please everybody."

"What is it?" asked Avrillia, looking more hopeful.