Chapter VIII The Vale of Tears
Such a thing had never happened before, and how it happened this timeI am at a loss to understand: but when Sara entered the Garden on thisparticular morning her eyes were full of tears. She had to fumbleblindly around for her dimples, and when she did find them they wereburied quite deep in her little wet cheeks. She would have strayedright on into the Garden without removing them, except that as soon asshe saw the Snimmy's wife, absorbed in some simple domestic task, andsitting on her own toadstool at the door of the prose-bush with hertail wrapped so tightly around the base, she felt that she might smileafter a while, and then it might be too late to save the dimples fromthe Snimmy. But before they had touched the whipped cream cushion inthe bottom of the holder, two Gunki rushed forward in great excitement,and seizing her by the arms, began to hurry her through the Garden,crying hoarsely,
"She's crying! She's crying! She mustn't cry here!"
Sara had never had a Gunkus touch her before; but, though they hurriedher so fast that she was breathless, and the tears hung where theywere on her lashes without having time to fall, they were as gentlewith her as possible, and she understood that their anxiety was all onher account. She was further reassured when she saw the Teacupfluttering and hopping along--now on one side, now on the other, andnow in front--and murmuring, "What in Zeelup, my dear?" with theutmost solicitude expressed on her gentle old face. Sara knew that theTeacup was timid, and seldom left the Garden; and she realized thather affection and concern for her must be very deep, to bring herfluttering along with her in this fashion, without stopping to ask thePlynck, or to think of the consequences to herself and herconsanguineous handle.
By this time they had passed through the hawthorn hedge that boundedthe Garden, and could see just below them a beautiful little Vale,with a rainbow arching over the entrance to it, like a gate. Insidethe Vale the view was not very distinct, for streamers of light mistblew across its green moss, and its white boulders, and the littlestream that wound down the middle of it. It was rather a sad-lookinglittle place, of course, but not bitter-looking or very long; and nowand then a sun-pencil struck across it, and for a moment made morerainbows like the one at the entrance.
As soon as they had passed through the hedge the Gunki stopped,breathing heavily and mopping their brows with their hatbands.
"Rest a minute, dear, and try to keep them from falling," said theTeacup, who was also breathless, but very kind. "Of course, if theyshould fall here it wouldn't be so bad; still, if you can keep them onyour lashes till we reach the Vale--"
"What would they do," asked Sara, in awe, "if they fell in theGarden?"
The Teacup and the Gunki looked at each other with wide, horrifiedeyes, each waiting for the other to speak.
"Well, you see, none ever have fallen in the Garden," said the Teacup,at last, speaking in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper."Before my Saucer was broken--"
"She's a widow, Miss," explained the Gunki, whispering to Sara behindtheir hands. One whispered in baritone, one in bass.
"Before my Saucer was broken," continued the Teacup, with a gratefullook at the thoughtful Gunki, "I've heard him say that a little girlcame into the Garden one day with tears in her eyes, and that onewould have fallen, if a Gunkus had not caught it in his shoe. Haven'tyou noticed the old, gray-haired Gunkus, who always wears a woodenmedal on his coat-tail--"
"Our grandfather," whispered the Gunki, behind their hands. This timethey whispered in second bass and tenor.
"Yes, the grandfather of these dear boys," said the susceptible oldlady. "He was showing the little girl about the Garden, and so had hisshoe in his hand out of respect for her; so he caught the tear in hisshoe with the greatest presence of mind, and ran down here with itbefore any actual harm was done. What the child was crying about Ican't imagine; though, for that matter, why any nice child shouldbring tears into the Garden--"
"Would it be worse than the Fractions?" asked Sara, hastily.
"It would," said the First Gunkus, in bass.
"It would," said the Second Gunkus, in the solemnest second bass.
"Much, much worse," said the Teacup, in her soft, anxious tremolo."One snow remedied that, you see; but if a tear fell--but oh, dear,let's don't talk about it! My handle is so consanguineous, and Iforgot to ask the Plynck--and--and--"
The poor old lady was evidently growing hysterical herself; so thefaithful Gunki hastily put up their hatbands, seized Sara by the arm,and again began hurrying toward the Rainbow Gate. The Teacup, havingagain to put her mind on the task of keeping up with them, regainedher composure--at least as much of it as she had ever had since herSaucer was broken.
Once inside the little arch, the Gunki stopped and relaxed their holdon Sara's arm. "Now you can cry, Miss," they said, with evidentrelief.
"But I don't want to, now," said Sara, wonderingly.
"Treatment successful," said the First Gunkus.
"That's what usually happens," explained the Teacup. "At least I'veheard my Saucer say that that's what happened to the other littlegirl. But here, boys, you must attend to these two she's alreadycried."
The two Gunki stepped up with alacrity, a little ashamed of having tobe reminded of their duties.
"Mad or sad?" they asked.
"Wh-what?" stammered Sara.
"Mad or sad?" repeated the Gunki, twirling their thumbs.
"They mean, my dear," explained the Teacup, "were you crying becauseyou were angry, or for some more or less legitimate reason--becauseyou cut your finger, for instance, or broke one of the charmingchildren you had with you the other day? Because--"
"It was because Jimmy wouldn't play what I wanted--" began Sara,hanging her head, and thinking she might as well get it out and overwith.
"Mad!" commented the Gunki in unison, with great professionalinterest. "Then they'll have to go to the fishes. Steady, now--"
As he said the last words the First Gunkus stepped up and deftlyremoved the tear from Sara's right eyelashes, while the Second Gunkus,with almost equal skill, captured the one from her left ones. They ranwith them toward the little stream, and Sara was so curious to knowwhat they meant to do with them that she followed unconsciously.
Now this was, indeed, the saddest little stream Sara had ever seen.Its source was hidden in mist, and after it passed through the rainbowarch it disappeared somewhere, as if the earth had swallowed it. Butall along its banks, where Sara could see it, sat great frogs, withtheir green pocket handkerchiefs to their eyes; and every now and thenthe most dismal sounds escaped them. Sara did not need to be told thatthey were Sobs--anybody would have known it.
Looking closely, Sara could see in the water hundreds of little blackfish, decorated with silver dots and streaks. As the Gunki approachedthe stream with Sara's tears, all the Sobs began to sob at once, andat the sound the little black fish all stuck their wide, greedy mouthsup out of the water. The Gunki fed the tears to the two nearest, andthen they all sank again, with a great splashing and flouncing.
"You see, Miss," explained the First Gunkus (who seemed to have takena great liking to Sara, in spite of all the trouble she had caused him),"we have to feed 'em all the mad tears. The sad ones turn intothese."
Sara looked where he pointed, and there, at her feet, she saw numbersof little blue-eyed flowers. They were extremely pretty, and by farthe pleasantest things she had seen in this Vale; but even they had asad little fragrance, and each eye had a dewdrop on it. Sara foundthat, if she looked at them long, she felt a lump coming in her throat;and at last she turned to her friends and said what she had beentrying to get up courage to say from the first, "Please--I don't likethis place! I want to go!"
"There, there, dear," said the Teacup, soothingly, looking as if shehad been dreading the worst, and it had come.
"We has orders, Miss," said the First Gunkus, stepping up, "that wemust keep you here three-quarters of an hour, and show you the wholeVale, Miss."
"Whose orders?" faltered Sara.
For a moment the Gunki looked quite wild and disorganized. Then theFirst Gunkus collected himself and said quite firmly,
"Just orders, Miss--without any whose."
"But I can tell you why, dear," interrupted the Teacup soothingly, asif she hoped to distract Sara's mind. "I've heard my Saucer say why.It's so children can understand what kind of a place mothers have tostay in, when they cry. So cheer up, dear, and try to enjoy thescenery. The trip through the Vale won't last long."
Sara felt a good deal like crying again--but it was like carryingcoals to Newcastle to cry in a place like this! Besides, she wasthinking of what the Teacup had said about mothers. Was it possiblethat she brought anything like this on her own dear, self-willedMother every time she indulged in a few natural tears?
And the more she thought of it, the more strongly she decided that shejust wouldn't cry. And just at that moment one of those lovely pencilsof sunlight, that looked brighter in this misty green place thananywhere she had ever been, fell across her path.
"What's that?" she asked the Teacup.
"Why, dear, that comes from the Smiles. They live just over the way,you know. We'll go by and see them on our way home."
Here was good news, indeed! Sara had never felt more relieved. But atthat very moment she drew back; for she had seen several disheveled,cross, black-browed children peering at her out of a sort of cave inthe rock. Behind them was a very ill-natured-looking old man.
"Those are the Frowns," said the Teacup, holding Sara's handreassuringly. "They live in that cave with their step-father, Old ManScowl. Just come on by, as if you didn't notice them. But remember howthey look. And listen to those sighs!"
So that was the doleful noise she had been hearing, up in the littlepine-trees? Sara looked up, and for a minute could see them quitedistinctly--little wispy, gray creatures, blowing about in the wind.They were better than the Frowns and the Sobs, she decided,--but dearme! Why should anybody be so dismal?
They had now followed the windings of the little Vale till they cameto a great wall of rock that rose across it. In the rock was anopening closed by a sagging, worm-eaten door, and in front of the doorhung a rusty black curtain.
"Children don't go in there, dear," said the Teacup, as Sara stoodgazing at it, fascinated. But indeed she had no wish to go in; and itwas with a skip of joy that she heard the First Gunkus say, "Time's up,Miss!"
At that word, back they all went scampering through the Vale, tillthey came to a bridge, which was made of another rainbow. On thisbridge they crossed the stream, and found themselves at the entranceof a little opening between the hills that shut in the Vale. Thesunshine streamed through it, and looking down it Sara could see thatit opened into a meadow full of daffodils and buttercups andblack-eyed Susans. There seemed to be children playing in it, and afew lambs; and down the path toward it waddled a long line of snowygeese. Altogether, it seemed to Sara she had never beheld so peacefuland ravishing a scene.
"This way out," said the First Gunkus, touching Sara's arm, andpointing up to a signpost, marked "Exit," beside the path. Drops ofwater, like tears, dripped continually from this sign; but thesunshine falling upon them from beyond the valley made them look likejewels.
The Teacup had told Sara that the Smiles lived in a peaceful villagejust beyond the valley; so she knew that the children playing amongthe flowers were their children. She would have been glad to stop andjoin in the gay, fairy-like games the little Smiles were playing; butshe could see that the Teacup was getting a little nervous, andanxious to be back in the Garden. And, since the kind little Teacuphad broken into her regular habits, and braved so many dangers anddiscomforts just to keep her company through the dismal Vale, she feltthat she ought to be very considerate. So she followed her down thepath, which was now turning into a little lane, though she walkedbackward part of the way, with her eyes on the children and the lambs.
When she turned around she could see a lovely little old village aheadof her. It nestled at the foot of a mountain, and it had vine-coveredcottages with thatched roofs, and spreading trees that made a velvetyshade underneath and winked in the sunshine above. The air was full ofthe prettiest sounds; and Sara, listening, thought they must come fromthe mountain. The mountain itself looked like Fairyland; it wascovered with ferns and blossoming laurel and festoons of jessamine;and the sounds that seemed forever playing and skipping about fromwall to wall and rock to rock were like the echoes (or was it thereflection?) of happy bells. Sara thought she ought to know what theywere, but she could not quite make out.
"Why, that's where Laughter lives, my dear," said the Teacup when sheasked her. "That's where your own little Laugh was making off to, theday you caught him. Listen--there are some as little as he was."
And indeed Sara could distinguish many sorts--small, gurglyBaby-Laughs, dimpled Little-Girl Laughs, Chuckles like Jimmy's, softLaughs like Mother's, and--almost the pleasantest of all,--deep,delighted Father-Laughs that almost made her homesick. They seemed tobe having such a very good time up there that she would have liked tolisten to them forever; besides, she kept thinking she might catchsight of one. But, though she several times saw the vines swaying, orsomething flashing behind a laurel-bush, she was obliged to go onwithout really seeing any.
At the shady door of almost every cottage a pleasant Smile in a verywhite, old-fashioned kerchief and cap sat spinning at a queer sort ofwheel; and the Teacup explained to Sara that this was where thedimples were made.
"It's the chief occupation of the women," said the Teacup. "The threadthey use is something like spun-glass, and this is the only place inthe world where the secret of making it is known. They weave it intothis fabric that looks something like cloth, and then cut it into thedifferent shapes with their scissors. You see now why dimples are sofragile."
The Smiles all spoke to them with pleasant looks, and gladly stoppedtheir work to talk to Sara, as she stood admiringly beside theirwheels. She saw a good many gentleman Smiles going happily about theirwork--drawing water, watering the flowers, or (since it was gettinglate) milking the little buttercup-colored cows. Here and there, too,a happy Smile, too little to go with the other children, rolled aboutand gurgled at its Mother's feet like a Cupid escaped from aValentine.
All this time Sara had been struggling with a plan that had beenshaping itself in her mind as she looked at basket after basket fullof shimmering, shining dimples, sitting beside the spinning wheels.After trying to start several times, she finally managed to ask of oneof the pleasantest Smiles,
"Do you--do you sell them?"
"Well, we don't usually sell them here," she answered doubtfully. "Weship them, you see, to the Stork. He takes our entire output. But, ifyou like, I could let you have a dozen for a kiss or two."
Sara clapped her hands, and drew the Teacup aside. "I'd like to takesome to the Snimmy," she explained. "He wanted mine so. Do you think Imight?"
"Why, bless the child!" cried the Teacup. She looked pleased andflustered and doubtful, all at once; for she wasn't used to taking somuch responsibility. "That's very dear and generous of you, I'm sure.It's never been done, has it?" she asked, turing to the Gunki, who,for their part, were so surprised that they only blinked. "No, I'msure it's never been done; but I don't see how it can do the leastharm. Why, yes, my dear--I wouldn't refuse you the pleasure."
So Sara picked out a dozen of the largest dimples, and paid gladlywith two kisses. Then, though she could hardly bear to leave thepretty village, with the laughter always echoing over it like bells,she grew all at once terribly impatient to take the Snimmy hisdimples.
"It will be such fun to feed him," she said.
For a while Sara was too much absorbed in anticipation to notice thatsomething was the matter with the Gunki. Then, all of a sudden, shenoticed that they were looking crestfallen and chagrined.
Sara was sorry to notice this because they had been very kind to herall through this rather trying day. She began to feel sure t
hat shehad in some way hurt or offended them; and while she was wondering howshe could have done it, and how she might make amends, the FirstGunkus saw her looking at him.
"I'd be willing to do anything I could for you, Miss," he blurted out,turning his shoe awkwardly round and round in his hand.
"What's more, we done all we could," said the Second Gunkus, lookingdeeply hurt.
"Oh!" said Sara, who now understood. "Why-why! You've been so kind tome! I'd love to repay you in some way! I haven't any money with me,"she went on doubtfully,--"or any postage stamps,--or anyginger-snaps-- Do you--do you like kisses?"
The First Gunkus drew the back of his hand across his mouth andgiggled.
The Second Gunkus dropped his shoe, and fumbled about trying to pickit up.
"Don't we, though!" said both of them, at last.
So Sara gave the faithful creatures two kisses apiece, which left thembeaming.
"Do--do you like them as well as dimples?" she asked. "Because, ifyou'd like dimples, I'll give you some of the Snimmy's."
But the Gunki felt themselves honored beyond any Snimmy who had eversniffed. They stuck their noses into the air and strutted along likedrum-majors.
"Dimples is for folks with tails," said the First Gunkus.
It was blue dusk and starlight when they reentered the Garden. Sara,with her friends standing a little apart to enjoy the fun, slippedunseen quite close to the prose-bush, where the Snimmy lay with hislong debilitating nose on his paws, looking up at the stars. Sarawaited until the nose began to quiver and twitch; and then shesuddenly emptied her whole handkerchief full of dimples out beforehim.
Sniff-gobble-gulp! Was there ever such haste and excitement? Sarajumped up and down with delight, and everybody in the Garden laughed.As for the Snimmy, he was quite overcome, and began to shed gum-dropsof joy.
"For once he's had a full meal," said his wife, grimly indulgent. Asfor Sara, she ran off, laughing, to tell Jimmy how funny he hadlooked.
The Plynck waked up from her first nap and rustled her fragrantplumes.
"Was that Sara?" she asked of her Echo.
"Of course," said the Echo. "You've been asleep."
"Then it wasn't Sara this morning--the strange child with the tears?"
Her more practical Echo shrugged her wings. "Go explain to her," shesaid to the Teacup.
So the little Teacup, very glad to be safe at home again, fluttered upto her place beside her mistress; and they talked about Sara and herstrange adventures far into the night.
The Garden of the Plynck Page 13