Accepting an Invitation
The next morning Sara took with her only the Kewpie and the Baby. The
Japanese doll was perfectly willing either to go or stay; he was not
at all temperamental, and anything suited him. She could tell from the
Billiken's smile that he didn't mind staying in the least; and the
Brown Teddy-Bear looked tired. He couldn't talk, of course, on the
everyday-side of the ivory doors; but with the new insight she had
acquired into his character, Sara felt sure his expression meant, "I
think I'd rather just sit in the corner. At my age a little excitement
goes a long way." As for the Kewpie, Sara was determined to take him,
as a reward for the distinguished fortitude he had shown the day
before; and the Baby, on the other hand, had behaved so badly that she
felt uneasy about leaving him. If he should act that way again--for
instance, when Lucy disturbed him in dusting the room--why, Lucy might
spank him! So the Kewpie was rewarded for being good, and the Baby was
rewarded for being bad, and Sara slipped through the ivory doors with
both of them tucked under one arm.
Almost immediately a Gunkus in livery stepped up and handed her a note
from Avrillia. He made a low bow, holding his shoe in his right hand
over his heart.
It was written on a rose-leaf, of course, and it had a delightful
faint odor, not only of roses, but of isthagaria. Sara opened it, and
read,
"We're leaving on the early boat. Would you like to go with us? We'll
be gone all day."
There was no answer to that but to run as fast as she could down the
little curly path. This morning it was not so much curly as melodious;
but Sara was in such a hurry that she hardly noticed. She forgot to
dismiss the Gunkus, but left him standing in front of the
dimple-holder, still bowing low, with his left shoe in his right hand
over his heart.
Pirlaps was standing on the front steps, all ready to start, and
beside him grinned Yassuh, carrying the step in one hand and an
enormous traveling-bag (almost as large as Sara's mother's leather
purse) in the other.
"Good-morning, Sara," said Pirlaps, in his unfailingly delightful way,
"I'm glad you got here in time. Avrillia will be ready in a second or
two."
Sara could hardly keep from skipping, she was so pleased at the
prospect of a day's expedition with Pirlaps and Avrillia. She did not
know where they were going, but that didn't matter: she was sure to
see something interesting. She edged up to Yassuh, taking care,
however, not to get close enough to brush against his chocolate
outside, which might come off on her clean apron. "What's in your
bag?" she coaxed, mischievously.
"Only my extra trousers, Sara," said Pirlaps, smiling; and then Sara
remembered that, though he did so many useful things (when he was not
asleep), she had never once heard Yassuh speak. He only grinned and
rolled his white eyes as Pirlaps continued, "We're taking twelve extra
pairs."
Just then Avrillia came out of the door. Avrillia could not be
ungraceful or abrupt, but she was evidently in a hurry. Her motions
were rather like that of a wisp of white sea-fog that is blown ahead
of a rising wind.
"There was so much to do before I could get off!" she explained a
little breathlessly. "The children came unexpectedly, too, and I had
to vanish them. Then, while I was dressing, I thought of a poem I had
to write about hair-pins--and oh, it almost stuck! It acted as if it
were going to, so I watched it longer than usual. But now I guess
we're off," she ended turning to fasten the door behind her. Sara
noticed that she fastened it with a hook and eye exactly like the ones
on Mother's prettiest waist--only this one was more valuable, being of
gold.
"Well, it's quite a long walk down to the landing," said Pirlaps,
leading the way, "and we don't want to miss the boat."
So they started off in the direction Sara had never gone before,
following a path that presently began to wind down among the cliffs,
giving them a blue view of the sea. Sara could hardly follow the path
for looking. Before long they could look back and see Avrillia's
balcony, with the little box-trees on the marble balustrade, and, far
below it, the gray abyss of Nothing. It was very strange and beautiful,
but it gave Sara a queer, empty feeling somewhere under her little
apron; and she was glad to turn her eyes back to the sea, which
beckoned far below them, a dancing blueness; and to the golden cliffs,
laughing in the sunlight far and near. The path was quite steep and
winding and unexpected, and Yassuh scrambled about a good deal; but he
managed to keep hold of the step and the bag. As for Sara, she had
never seen a more fascinating place, and she supposed these great
cliffs must form a part of the walls of the amphitheatre she had seen
from Schlorge's stump. Presently, at one especially wild, golden place,
where the path followed the edge of a chasm, Pirlaps paused a moment
and said,
"You can hear a lovely reflection from here, Sara. Shall I call?"
"A reflection?" said Sara, wonderingly.
"Surely," said Pirlaps. "Listen." Then he cupped his hands about his
lips and called clearly,
"Avrillia!"
"'Rillia!" came back the wild, eerie syllables, so distinctly that
Sara's heart leaped.
"Oh, an echo!" she cried, clapping her hands. "How beautiful!"
"Bless the child!" said Pirlaps, smiling at Avrillia. "You hear a
reflection, Sara; you see an echo."
"Like the Echo of the Plynck in the pool," supplemented Avrillia.
"Don't you remember, Sara?"
Sara was sure her father had told her it was just the other way around;
but she was too happy to argue. So, to change the subject, she asked
Pirlaps very respectfully where they were going.
"To Zinariola, Sara--to the City. You've never been there, have you?"
Never, never had Sara been there; and she began immediately trying to
build that lovely city in her mind--the frail spires, and the rich
bazaars, dusky and spicy and full of brocades and silks, and the
little narrow, climbing streets. But, though it was a pleasure to try,
she knew she could not imagine anything so strange and charming as the
real City of Zinariola would be.
All this time they had been winding steadily down to the sea. And
presently they caught sight of the boat, riding at anchor near the
landing place, with a little skiff drawn up on the sand. Of course you
know that the boat was a scallop-shell, with sails of gossamer; but
Sara had been expecting an ordinary boat, and she was perfectly
delighted. Of course it was large enough to hold Sara, as well as the
rest of the party; but just barely. And the sailors were no larger
than Pirlaps, though of course more rugged-looking and not so
smooth-shaven. And not one of them said a single word, during the
entire voyage, except "Yo-ho!" They sang that out continually; but as
their voices were small and musical (though hoarse) one didn't mind
the monotony of it.
The sea was very smooth that morning, and not one of the party was
seasick; and Sara, who had been gazing, fascinated, into the water in
front of the bow was just beginning to suspect that the boat was being
drawn by a very large amber-colored fish who kept just ahead of it and
just under the surface (with the sails chiefly for ornament) when
Avrillia called suddenly from the stern, "You can see Zinariola now,
Sara!"
Ah, there was the magical city!--for that it was magical the most
matter-of-fact person could see at a glance. Of course it was not just
imaginary, like the one Sara had built up in her mind, for this little
city was shining upon the cliffs; but for all that it was not a common
city--it was a toy one, and enchanted at that. And it was even more
strange and beautiful than she had dreamed. For streamers of violet
fog blew up its streets from the sea, and a wild light from behind the
farthest cliff struck across its green roofs and gilded weather-vanes.
Just as they drew up to the quay they heard a tinkling sound of music
and much laughter; and an organ-man with a monkey came spilling out of
one of the little streets, followed by a crowd of clapping children.
They were somewhat like Avrillia's children, only quite
foreign-looking, with green and red and yellow kerchiefs. The
organ-man was not so large as Yassuh, and the monkey was about the
size of a small spider. As for the organ, it looked strangely like the
music-box that belonged to Sara's dolls.
Sara had never before seen a city simply swarming with fairies. Any
city was a wide-eyed place to Sara; so what of the wonder of a fairy
city? To be sure, many of them were foreign-looking, like the ones who
followed the organ-man, and in other ways, too; still, as Zinariola
was a seaport, it was very cosmopolitan, and one saw all sorts of
people on its streets. Many were just natural-looking people, like
Pirlaps and Avrillia; but some were of chocolate, like Yassuh, and
some were Chinese, with long pigtails of black buttonhole-twist; and
some were Parisians, with hats exactly like the one that the Japanese
doll wore so unbecomingly. (Yes, Sara knew in her heart that it was
unbecoming, though she would not have admitted it, even to you.) On
the gay Parisian lady-fairies, however, these hats were charming--but
hardly more striking than the many-colored headdresses, made of
humming-bird's feathers, that attracted so much attention when a band
of wild Indians went whooping down one of the principal streets. And
everywhere one saw sailors--rolling along the sidewalks and greeting
each other with loud "Yo-ho's!" (Loud, that is, for their size, but
always hoarsely musical.)
This visit of Sara's took place before automobiles were introduced
into Zinariola, and the carriages were drawn by devil's horses. Of
these Sara was frankly afraid--they reared so, and turned their heads
so weirdly on their long green necks. Sara noticed one in particular,
which was drawing a carriage in a wedding procession that was just
leaving a church. This was a closed carriage, occupied by the bride
and groom; and the devil's horse was not looking where he went at all;
he had turned his head completely around, and was staring through the
little window straight into the carriage! Sara was afraid to cross the
street in front of horses that never looked where they stepped. It
took all her courage to attempt it, and you may be sure she held fast
to Pirlaps. And when Pirlaps had to leave them in order to go to a
barber-shop (Avrillia had not insisted upon his bringing his shaving
things today, but he went to a barber-shop every two hours) she would
not cross the street, but stayed on the sidewalk. Pirlaps changed his
trousers at the barber-shop, too, whenever it was necessary; but today
there were so much to do and see that he did not sit on his step as
much as usual, and so did not need as many.
For they had a good deal of shopping to do, besides showing Sara the
sights. In the first place, Avrillia had to go to the stationery store
and get a new supply of swan's-quill pens. "That's one store I always
know where to find," she said. "The others change about so that I
always have to ask somebody." Then, Pirlaps needed some new trousers
(two or three pairs had worn out and he only had forty-four or five
left) and some shaving soap. "And besides," said Avrillia, smiling at
Sara mysteriously, "we want to get some presents."
"And you'll have to make your usual visits of charity. Oh, I know you,
Avrillia," said Pirlaps. "If we don't hurry we won't catch the evening
boat."
So they went first to the stationery store (which, just as Avrillia
had said, was in the usual place), and then to a bazaar where they
disposed of their household buying. While Sara was feasting her eyes
on the strange, delicious-looking fruits, the old candlesticks, and
the bolts and lengths of rich-looking cloth with stories woven into it,
she heard Avrillia say, "Now a set of self-buttoning buttons, please."
The jolly little old leather-colored man who kept the bazaar winked at
Sara as he brought out the buttons for Avrillia's inspection. They
looked very much like ordinary buttons, except that they were, of
course, more intelligent-looking, and they were on a pink card instead
of a white one; also, they were in a shiny lacquer box, the lid of
which was watched over by gold dragons.
"They will do very nicely," said Avrillia. "Now a thimble--a really
good one, please, that is thoroughly finger-broken, and has a
tractable disposition and some sense. The one this little girl has now
is simply abominable, and wouldn't push a needle through cobweb--not
to mention the heavy textiles they are obliged to use in her country.
Now, some knotless thread, please," she continued, having decided upon
a thimble after much careful thought. "Oh, no--not that! I don't mean
the kind that won't take a knot at the end; what I want is the kind
that won't tangle and snarl, even if a child's fingers are tired.
There, that's it!" and she tucked a smiling little spool into Sara's
apron pocket.
"Now, Sara," she asked, "is there any other simple little thing you'd
like to have? They have self-washing hands and self-learning lessons,
and such things, but they're very expensive, and I know your mother
wouldn't want you to accept expensive presents," and she smiled at
Sara affectionately.
Sara wanted terribly to ask for a set of self-learning multiplication
tables, but she knew Avrillia was right, and that her mother wouldn't
like it. Besides, how could she ever get all that furniture home on
the boat?
So she assured Avrillia that she was more than satisfied--as, indeed,
being a dear child, she was. And then Avrillia nearly took her breath
away by saying, "Well, then, we'll go up and fit the dollies--just for
good measure. I know a shop where the loveliest doll clothes may be
bought for a trifle."
And, would you believe it, that was the first time that Sara had
remembered the Baby doll and the Kewpie! However, one could tell from
the Kewpie's delighted smile that no harm had been done, so far as he
was concerned; and the Baby, for a wonder, was asleep.
So Avrillia took them to the oddest little shop, the shape of a Dutch
teapot, kept by a little old-lady doll who was delighted to show them
everything. They bought a complete wardrobe for the Kewpie, who had
never had any clothes, and was charmed by the novelty of possessing
them; but the Baby nearly spoiled everything by waking up and kicking
and squalling and refusing to try on a thing! "You'd better behave,
you little rascal," said Pirlaps, "it will be a long while before
you'll ever have another chance like this!" But the Baby only kicked
the harder. However, the little shop-keeper doll was very patient, and
by measuring him between kicks they managed to fit him out with a very
nice layette. And then Avrillia insisted on buying all sorts of things
for the dolls at home--gorgeous oriental costumes for the Japanese
doll, sailor-suits for the Billiken, and a handsome fur overcoat, of a
conservative style and cut, for the Brown Teddy-Bear.
"Now," said Pirlaps, "we'll have luncheon--it's getting rather
late--and then I suppose Avrillia will have to call on her poor
families."
He led them to a little Chinese restaurant where a dumb-waiter with a
pigtail noiselessly served them with very good things to eat--though
Avrillia said the prices were outrageous. As they were dipping their
eyelashes daintily in the finger-bowls, Pirlaps said,
"Well, Sara, shall we go with Avrillia, or would you rather stay
here?"
"Oh, let's go!" cried Sara. She would have stayed anywhere with
Pirlaps, but if there was more to see, she wanted to see it.
"Have you had the measles?" asked Pirlaps.
Sara had; she could not be mistaken about it.
"And the mumps?" Again Sara nodded, swallowing hard as she thought of
lemons and vinegar.
"All right, come ahead," said Pirlaps. And they started off.
"But the Baby hasn't!" suddenly remembered Sara. "The Kewpie has, but
the Baby hasn't."
"Then it will never do to take him," said Pirlaps, decisively. "Here,
Yassuh, you stay here and keep the Baby."
Pirlaps saw a look of doubt and reluctance in Sara's eyes as he was
about to consign the Baby to Yassuh's sticky care. So he handed the
Baby back to Sara and darted into a store near by where he got some
clean wrapping-paper. He then rolled the Baby, in its nice white dress,
up in the paper, taking care to leave its nose out, so it could
breathe. Then he handed it over to Yassuh, and Sara felt quite
comfortable and contented. "Keep out of the sun," he called back to
Yassuh, "and mind you don't melt!"
The next thing, Avrillia said, was to stop in a drug store. They found
one quite readily, and Sara watched with astonished eyes while
Avrillia purchased a very large stock of drugs. Even a fairy drug
store is a disagreeable place to a child with a past like Sara's, and
if this one had not had a show-case full of candies for her to look at
she would have been exceedingly restless. But the bonbons were
charming--of all shapes and colors, and almost as large as a pinhead.
Sara was really suffering from curiosity to know what Avrillia was
going to do with the medicines, but she had already asked so many
questions that she thought she would try to be very polite, and wait.
Waiting was made easier by the fact that the poorer quarter of the
city, through which they were now walking, was very queer and
interesting. It was like most such places, but Sara had not seen many,
and she was fascinated by the babies tumbling about on the sidewalk,
and the clothes-lines on the upstairs porches with clothes drying on
them. Once a goat in an alley looked up and spoke to her--but she did
not understand what he said. His mouth was full; for he was eating a
tin can that looked strangely like Sara's old thimble.
Presently they stopped before a mean-looking house and Avrillia
knocked. Now, you often hear that word applied to quite innocent
houses that are only plain and poor; but this one really was
mean-looking. And Sara noticed with wonder that there was a red flag
over the door.
A disagreeable-looking woman with watery eyes and her handkerchief to
her nose opened the door; and then, at the sound of Avrillia's voice,
there swarmed out from the rooms on both sides of the hall a crowd of
the most unattractive children! They fairly mobbed Avrillia, all
talking at once and snatching at the bottles which they could see
sticking out of Avrillia's basket. They had the reddest faces Sara had
ever seen, and no manners at all; for without even asking permission
they began to drink out of the bottles, quarreling among themselves
into the bargain.
Sara drew as far away from them as she could; and while Avrillia was
talking kindly to the woman and the children (who didn't listen to her),
and also to an old man who sat hunched over a stove in the corner,
she whispered to Pirlaps, "Who are they?"
"Why, the Measles, of course," said Pirlaps. "I told you we were
coming to see them! They live with their mother, Mrs. Sneeze, and
their grandfather, Old Man Cough. Avrillia thinks she can help them,
but they're a shiftless lot. Haven't a particle of get-up-and-go!
Always waiting for somebody to take 'em!"
Avrillia was too much interested to notice what Sara and Pirlaps were
doing. "Now, children," she was saying kindly but severely, "I shall
expect to find you better the next time I come. No, you can't have
that bottle--that's for the Mumps."
Sara found, as they left the house, that the Mumps were an old couple
who lived only a few doors down the same street. Old Mr. Mump had once
made a fortune in the pickle-business; but he had had reverses, and
was now very old and poor.
They found the old couple sitting in front of their rickety grate,
with their jaws tied up in red flannel. The old man evidently had a
vicious temper, but he was plainly glad to see Avrillia. The old lady
was more mild and tearful; and both were overjoyed to get the
medicine.
As they went out into the street again, Sara gave a sigh of relief;
but Avrillia looked quite rapt and uplifted.
Sara was anxious to see if any mishap had overtaken Yassuh and the
Baby; but when they had hurried back to the restaurant they found
Yassuh still awake and the Baby still asleep. Pirlaps took off the
sticky paper and handed him, as clean as ever, back to Sara, who was
very glad that she had not exposed him to those dreadful diseases.
They caught the scallop-shell boat, though they had to run for it, and
they were quite quiet all the way home. Avrillia sat by the rail,
watching the gulls, and dreaming; and Sara strained her eyes for a
long time to catch the last glimpse of the little magic, toy City of
Zinariola. She was still lost in memories when the boat scraped on the
beach; and then they climbed the little path among the cliffs through
the sunset. As soon as they reached the house Pirlaps sat emphatically
down on his step, remarking, "My, but it's good to be at home!" But
Avrillia hurried off to her balcony, murmuring absent-mindedly, "I
must write a poem about streets!"
As for Sara, she sped along the little curly path in the dusk toward
the ivory doors. And there, in front of the dimple-holder, stood the
Gunkus in livery, still bowing low, holding his left shoe in his right
hand over his faithful heart.
Sara was much ashamed of having forgotten him, and she had no money
with her; but she had a postage stamp in her pocket, from which the
puppy had licked the mucilage. This she gave him.
It was, in all other respects, a perfectly good stamp. And the
faithful Gunkus seemed much pleased.