So Sara picked out a dozen of the largest dimples, and paid gladly with two kisses. Then, though she could hardly bear to leave the pretty village, with the laughter always echoing over it like bells, she grew all at once terribly impatient to take the Snimmy his dimples.
"It will be such fun to feed him," she said.
For a while Sara was too much absorbed in anticipation to notice that something was the matter with the Gunki. Then, all of a sudden, she noticed that they were looking crestfallen and chagrined.
Sara was sorry to notice this because they had been very kind to her all through this rather trying day. She began to feel sure that she had in some way hurt or offended them; and while she was wondering how she could have done it, and how she might make amends, the First Gunkus 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, looking deeply hurt.
"Oh!" said Sara, who now understood. "Why-why! You've been so kind to me! 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 any ginger-snaps— Do you—do you like kisses?"
The First Gunkus drew the back of his hand across his mouth and giggled.
The Second Gunkus dropped his shoe, and fumbled about trying to pick it up.
"Don't we, though!" said both of them, at last.