"
And as soon as he had finished he started wildly down the path again,
shouting back, "Bring 'em to the shop!"
Sara sat looking down the path, then at the dimples in her hand. "Well,"
she said aloud, "I'm glad they're cheek-dimples, anyhow. But what in
the world shall I do about the onions?"
"What in Zeelup," corrected the Teacup gently, counting her stitches.
"Milder than swearing, my dear, more becoming, and quite as
effective."
Sara wanted to tell her she wasn't swearing, but just at that moment
the wife of the Snimmy remarked, with some disgust in her voice,
"Well, if you'd of asked me sooner, I could of told you. I have them
in the sugar-bowl, of course. Do you suppose I'd be without, and him
subject to such fits?"
And so saying, she replaced the doorknob, which was now neatly hemmed,
on the front door of the prose-bush, and came down the steps to Sara,
carrying three large onions. She was not a bad-looking person, though
an amnicolist.
She then proceeded to slice the onions very deftly with a tuning-fork,
after which she rubbed the ice-cream of the pavement with the slices,
making a circle all around the Teacup, and another all around Sara,
somewhat like the ring they used to burn about a fire in the grass, to
keep it from spreading.
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