g you a present or respond to a Toast,
because he has made you an address of welcome. You have spent many
happy days with us, and will soon be leaving. The time has come at
last for us to bid you welcome. We will not dwell on the natural
sadness of the occasion; rather, let us rejoice in the delights we
have enjoyed together, and hope for a recurrence of these fair and
memorable days. Sehlorge!"

Schlorge, overcome with pride and embarrassment, rose from his seat.
He started around the pool with much dignity; then his composure
suddenly gave way. "Where's the stump?" he began to shout wildly.
"Where's the--where's the--"

"There, there, Schlorge, you're walking right to it," said Pirlaps,
soothingly, hastening after him and laying a hand upon his arm. Then,
as Schlorge scrambled upon it, Pirlaps raised his hand to command
attention.

"Schlorge wishes me to state," he said, in his pleasant, clear voice,
"that the gesture he will now make goes with the first line of his
address. He cannot make it at that point because his hands will be
already arranged. But I will request that you all observe it carefully,
and hold it in mind until it is needed."

Thereupon Schlorge made a large, deliberate, comprehensive gesture. It
included the pool, the Gugollaph-tree, the prose-bush--not only the
whole Garden, in fact, but the lovely amphitheatre beyond it. Moreover,
it seemed to Sara to include even more distant things; the Rainbow
Vale and the Butterfly Country, and the colony where lived the
relations of Pirlaps, and the Laughter Mountain and Avrillia's house
and the magic toy City of Zinariola.

At last, having concluded his gesture, Schlorge arranged his hands and
began in a loud voice:

"A little girl's mind is a place like this--
At least, that of one little dear girl is:
Full of quaint little thoughts made of sugar and spice,
And queer little notions like little white mice.

"But a little boy's mind is not nearly so neat,
And a little boy's fancies are scarcely so sweet:
So we'll give you a tale next, if fortune avails,
Full of snapses and snailses and puppy-dog's tails."

Then, for the last time, Schlorge went running wildly down the dear,
familiar path toward the Dimplesmithy.

"Come again, Sara!" he shouted back, excitedly, over his shoulder.
"Come again! And bring Jimmy!"

Sara knew