"But I can't frown, today," cried Sara, in dismay.
"I know it's hard," said Schlorge.
"Or at the Teacup!" pleaded Sara.
"It's your duty, Sara," said the Echo.
"Oh, dear, it's putting off the presents!" sighed one of the oldest of Avrillia's children; then, as she looked at the poor little gentle, bedraggled Teacup, with her consanguineous handle, she felt ashamed of herself, and hid behind her mother's drapery.
As for Sara, she was indeed in distress. "If some of you would only think of something to make me frown—I can't even think of any disagreeable things today!"
"You're frowning now!" suddenly cried the First Gunkus, waving his shoe; and they all forgave him his lack of respectfulness, because he was plainly so excited.
"Hold her up, Schlorge!" cried Pirlaps, running forward.
"There—Sara—hold that expression—just a moment. Fix your eyes
here—on this leaf! And keep your mind firmly on this thought: 'The
Disagreeable Necessity of Frowning in the Presence of Presents.'"
Sara remembered how brave and useful she had been the day before, and concentrated her mind by a really tremendous effort. And she was soon rewarded; for in a few minutes everybody was clapping hands and waving handkerchiefs and crying, "She's dry! She's dry! Three cheers for Sara!"
Sure enough, the little Teacup was dry enough to flutter back to her perch, on which she sat throwing kisses to Sara. And then Pirlaps came forward, and taking Sara by the hand, said, "Come, Sara."