The Invaders
When Sara dropped the curtains behind her the next morning she paused
in horror, with her hand poised above the dimple-holder. What had
happened to her lovely Garden in the night?
It looked exactly as her own little garden was accustomed to look
three days after a hard freeze. Blighted--that was the word: it was
blighted. The leaves hung limp and brown from the trees; the blue
plush grass, and even the blue bark of the Gugollaph-tree, had turned
a most sickly green. The water was frozen in the pool; and, imprisoned
below it, she could see the Echo of the Plynck, perfectly stiff, and
looking as if she were in some sort of awful trance. The Plynck, on
the other hand, drooped on her accustomed branch like the leaves on
the trees, as if she hardly had strength to hold her loosened plumes
together. The Snimmy's wife sat on her own toadstool, rigid and
angry-looking, with her tail wound tightly around the base, and with
the half-hemmed doorknob forgotten in her lap; the Snimmy lay
watchfully at the door of the prose-bush, with his long, debilitating
nose on his paws, shivering terribly; and the Snoodle looked as if
somebody had put salt on his mother. And the poor, timid Teacup looked
like a gentle, fat little old lady who has just been shot out of a
volcano.
Avrillia and Pirlaps were standing together in the little arch,
looking with passionate and indignant eyes upon the general distress
and havoc, and especially upon the insolent creatures who had caused
it. For Sara saw, after a few minutes of bewilderment, that the
beautiful place with its gentle inhabitants had been overrun in the
night by a horde of Fractions.
For there they sat, grouped insolently around the fountain, drinking
tears out of mugs of enormous sighs, and hammering with their fists
upon the peculiarly disagreeable-looking tables at which they sat.
These tables were of various sizes, but they were all very ponderous
and slippery-looking; and observing them closely, Sara saw that her
instinctive aversion was well founded--for they were multiplication
tables. The Two-Times table was nearest to her, being placed just to
the left of the dimple-holder; and they increased regularly in size up
to the Twelve-Times table, at which the officers were sitting.
The whole crowd of invaders were disgustingly haughty and
self-important--worse even than the Strained Relations, Sara thought;
but the officers were the worst of all. From the Least Common Multiple
up to the Greatest Common Divisor, from the thin, poker-like Quotient
with the fierce white moustache to the enormous, puffy Multiplicand,
Sara thought they were the most pompous lot she had ever seen. However,
since they were officers and units, she could imagine that they might
have some excuse; but what possible excuse could there be for conceit
in the Fractions, every one of whom had something missing about him?
Some of them, of course, lacked only an ear or a little finger; but
numbers of them had only one leg or one arm, and many of them were
much worse off! Why, at the farthest side of the Three-Times table
Sara saw a Fraction who consisted entirely of one eye!
There was one table, to be sure, the Eleven-Times, the noisiest of all,
that was occupied entirely by Improper Fractions; but aside from their
table-manners and general behavior, which were shocking, Sara thought
they looked even worse than the proper ones. For one of them had two
faces, another three feet, and a third one had as many arms as an
octopus. Sara positively refused to look at them.
While Sara stood gazing in horror and dismay, and feeling so grieved
for her friends that she could not bring herself to ask anybody what
had happened or what could be done, she saw Schlorge coming at a run
down the path from the Dimplesmithy. He looked as wild and distracted
as any of them, but Sara felt a great relief when she saw him, because
she knew he was so clever and practical. She felt, too, that she could
ask him what the trouble was and he could bear it--better than the
Teacup, for instance, who, she feared, would go all to pieces, or the
Echo of the Plynck, who was clearly all in. So she ran up to him and
touched his elbow and asked, almost crying, "What is it, Schlorge? How
did it happen?"
Schlorge, even in his excitement, was comforted by her sympathy, and
evidently very glad to see another ally. "Why--a--" he began, and then,
remembering, he cried excitedly, "Where's the stump--where's the
stump? I have to tell Sara about it!"
But alas, the invaders had razed the stump to the ground, apparently
out of wanton malice, for they had made no use of it. All over and
around it were strewn plus-signs, minus-signs, and other weapons; and
Sara noticed that the dots from the divided-by signs were rolling
about everywhere on the withered grass. Manifestly, Schlorge could not
get upon the fallen stump, through such a thicket of debris, and he
dared not move them nor step on them; besides, it is doubtful if he
could have told Sara about it unless the stump were right side up.
At this juncture, however, Pirlaps stepped boldly forward and once
more offered Schlorge his step. Schlorge sprang upon it without
noticing the chocolate, but he was so agitated that he put his left
hand into his bosom and his right behind his back, instead of the
other way around. However, it was in a loud, firm voice, with fierce,
defiant looks at the invaders, that he informed Sara:
"The Fractions came down like a wolf on the fold:
Their ears are acute but their noses are cold.
They know nothing of poetry, music or art--
So why in Sam Hill should they think they're so smart?"
"Why in Zeelup?" corrected the Teacup, from above, in a tremulous,
weeping voice; but even had it been louder it would have been drowned
in the clamor that rose from the tables.
"Silence, impudent clown!" roared the fat, fierce-looking
Multiplicand. "Ignoramus! nothing of music! Why, you don't know Common
Time!"
Sara quaked; only yesterday she had got all tangled up trying to tell
the difference between three-four time and two-four time; and she knew
Schlorge was wrong and the dreadful creature was right. But Schlorge
was beside himself with fury and beyond the reach of fear or reason.
"Oh, go on!" he shouted fiercely. "You don't know nothing about the
insides of music--that's only the outsides! Besides, what time does a
bird sing by? That's music, ain't it?"
But before the Multiplicand could answer, his henchman, the Multiplier,
called out, "And what do you know of art, Oaf? Don't you know that
modern art is colored geometry?"
"And poetry?" squeaked the Quotient, fiercely, "Don't poets have to
count their feet to write poems?"
But at that juncture they were all electrified to see Avrillia
stepping forward, looking so beautiful and so queenly and so
transfigured by righteous indignation that even the invaders merely
blinked. "Not modern poets," she said, with an icy authority that sent
a hostile shiver up and down the multiplication tables. "They do not
count anything--not even the cost."
It was not so much what Avrillia said, as the way she said it, and the
way she looked, that cowed even the all-powerful invaders for a
moment. Pirlaps, at her side, said, "Good for you, Avrillia!" under
his breath; and Schlorge glared at the Fractions with triumphant scorn
and continued,
"Like leaves of the forest when summer is green
Our beautiful Garden at sunset was seen;
Like leaves of the forest when autumn is flown,
You see it this morning all withered and strown."
As he finished this stanza Schlorge seemed to rise to twice his full
height (indeed, he seemed to Sara for a moment almost half as tall as
her waist) in his eloquent fury, as he continued:
"But we will lambast you, you straight-waisted pigs,
As sure as black's yellow and thistles is figs!
Yea, surer than squashes our vengeance we'll wreak;
If it isn't today, why, we'll do it next week!"
Sara had a distressed feeling that this was rather a weak ending, but
nobody else seemed to notice it; indeed, several of the Fractions were
so incensed at the bold threat that two or three of them called out,
"Shoot him at sunrise!" The Greatest Common Divisor, however, merely
gave him a savage and contemptuous glance over his tear-mug, as much
as to say that he would annihilate him when it was quite convenient.
In a few moments they were again entirely absorbed in their drinking
and carousing, and then Pirlaps cautiously touched Schlorge on the
arm. "Let's have a council of war," he said, in a very low voice,
drawing him a little to one side. "I have an idea. Where shall we go?"
"Better come down to the Smithy," said Schlorge. "They haven't
discovered it yet."
Very quietly then, while the Fractions were busy drinking, Schlorge
and Pirlaps and Avrillia and Sara and the Snimmy and the Snimmy's wife
slipped out of the Garden and down the path to the Dimplesmithy. They
didn't think it necessary to tell the Plynck, who was too much crushed
to be of use, or the Teacup, for whom they dreaded the slightest
shock. The Echo of the Plynck might have been useful, only she was
still frozen into the pool.
The farther they got from the Garden the less blighted and the more
natural everything looked; and by the time they reached the road, they
would not have suspected, from the look of the country, that
destruction was lurking so near.
When they reached the Dimplesmithy, they sent the Snimmy to sniff out
the neighborhood carefully with his debilitating nose, to see if there
were any spies about; and when he returned, Pirlaps carefully unfolded
his plan.
"I am convinced," he said earnestly, "from what I have observed this
morning, that Poetry will be absolutely fatal to these hateful
intruders who have descended upon us. The only question in my mind is,
How shall we apply it? After thinking about it most carefully, I have
worked out a tentative plan. Avrillia, I am sure, can furnish us
plenty of ammunition." (Sara, glancing admiringly at Avrillia, saw the
thrilling look of high resolve that shone in her face.) "And Schlorge
will have to make us two or three more pairs of bellows. Are you
strong enough to wield a pair, Sara?" he asked. Even in the stress of
this dire moment he spoke so kindly that she loved him more than ever;
and she told him proudly that she was sure she could. Schlorge had
already dragged down from a shelf three extra pairs of bellows--one
brand-new one and two old ones; and he was busy at his forge mending
and putting them in order. All the while, however, he was listening
anxiously to Pirlaps.
"The only part I haven't been able to work out," said Pirlaps, with a
worried look, "is this: How can we reduce the Poetry to a powdered
form fast enough to be effective?"
This was a problem indeed; and everybody thought deeply and
desperately. Avrillia, Sara could see, was already so absorbed in
making the poems that she didn't even hear; but it was an agonizing
moment for the rest of them. It did not last long, however; for the
Snimmy's wife stepped forward and said triumphantly, in her deep,
cross voice, "My coffee-mill!"
"Ah, these practical people!" cried Pirlaps, rubbing his hands
delightedly. "Now for our organization. Avrillia, have you plenty of
rose-leaves?"
"An extra supply," answered Avrillia, raptly. "Yassuh filled the
leaf-closet only yesterday. How fortunate!"
"Then the problem of transportation," said Pirlaps, greatly pleased.
"There must be no break--"
"The Gunki will bring 'em," said Schlorge, decisively. "Here, you!" he
shouted; and a swarm of Gunki came tumbling out from under the
adjacent bushes. "Bring your coal-scuttles!" he shouted; and each
Gunkus scuttled back, reappearing in a moment with the desired
receptacle.
"Good!" said Pirlaps. "Stand at attention until I give you further
orders." And each Gunkus stood perfectly still and straight, holding
his coal-scuttle by the handle between his teeth, and dropping his
eyes into it. They hit the bottom of the scuttle with a ringing,
martial sound.
"Now," said Pirlaps, "how many hands for the bellows? Avrillia will be
busy writing poems; Mrs. Snimmy will be busy grinding them. That
leaves Schlorge, Sara, Mr. Snimmy and myself. Four pairs of
bellows--how fortunate!" He then explained to the Gunki that they were
to march straight to Avrillia's balcony and form an unbroken line from
there to the Snimmy's wife's coffee-mill, on the front porch of the
prose-bush; and that they were to pass the scuttles full of loaded
rose-leaves in a steady stream, as fast as they could. The last Gunkus
was to empty the scuttles into the coffee-mill.
In a very short time they had this plan in execution. When they
slipped back into the Garden they found that the Fractions had been
drinking so heavily that many of them were snoring loudly under the
multiplication tables; and the rest were carousing so uproariously
that they took no notice whatever of the preparations for their
overthrow. The Snimmy's wife took her station grimly at the
coffee-mill; Pirlaps, Schlorge, Sara and the Snimmy grouped themselves
about her, and in a very few minutes the first scuttleful of poems
arrived. The first Gunkus emptied them into the mill; Mrs. Snimmy
began to grind violently; the gunners, with hands trembling with
excitement, loaded their bellows. Even in this terrible moment Sara
could not help noticing what a lovely stuff the powder was--a blue and
silver dust, with a delicate fragrance like sachet powder. Surely 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?"
"Don't make such long speeches, Snimmy," said his wife, "and don't beg
anything. Didn't you blow as hard as any of 'em?"
But Schlorge was already deeply interested in the problem. He began
walking around among them, now and then turning one over with his
foot. Of course there had never been an ounce of flesh and blood among
them; they were as dry as bones--which, indeed, they much resembled.
"I could make them into first-class rules," he said, picking up the
waist-line of an Improper Fraction and snapping it easily across his
knee. "They'd keep the Plynck supplied a whole winter."
The Plynck! In the excitement of victory they had all momentarily
forgotten the Plynck, though, when the fight was hottest, it had been
the sight of her tragic drooping plumes among the blighted leaves that
had nerved them to redoubled effort. Now Avrillia stepped softly under
the tree and called gently, "O Plynck, dear Plynck! They're all dead,
and Schlorge is going to make them into rules for you to break!"
A shiver ran through the soft, rosy plumes of the Plynck; she opened
her terrified eyes, and when she saw that the good tidings was indeed
true, she began to shine and smile down upon them again like a
convalescent rainbow. The Gunki had already formed a line to
Schlorge's smithy, and were briskly sending scuttlefuls of the hateful
fragments down the line.
"I--I'm sorry I was so useless," apologized the Plynck with deep
humility, looking down upon her faithful friends. But they one and all
began to protest that she had not been needed in the least. "It was
for you as we done it, ma'am," Schlorge assured her, looking up into
her tree with his shoe in his hand; and the poor Snimmy was so
overcome by emotion that he was compelled to lie down at the foot of
the Gugollaph-tree, with his debilitating nose on his little cold paws,
and sniffle frankly.
"But how will they get back the lovely grass and flowers?" asked Sara
of Pirlaps, softly. Her friends were saved; but her Garden still
looked sadly afflicted.
"Well, perhaps it will snow," said Pirlaps, hopefully.
"Snow?" asked Sara. "Will that bring the grass and leaves back?"
"Why, certainly, Sara," said Pirlaps, looking down at her with his
kind, amused smile. Pirlaps was often amused at her ignorance; but he
was always so kind about it that Sara didn't mind at all.