And all the time, it was
about to die with amusement.
They all gathered around to see what a darling little thing it was.
Even Schlorge admired it openly; and the Snimmy's wife said grudgingly,
"It sure is pretty." As for the Snimmy, he buried his face in his
hands. "I can't stand it!" he groaned, and the gum-drops began to
squeeze through his fingers. "It makes him think of dimples," his wife
explained, in a low tone, to Sara.
"'So near and yet so far,' you know," fluttered the Teacup,
sympathetically.
The next thing was to decide how to get their captive home. Schlorge
was quite sure it couldn't break the net; still, he thought it best to
accept the Brown Teddy-Bear's suggestion that they put it, net and all,
into the Snimmy's wife's basket, and tie the lid securely.
"'Specially since we have to go around by the Smithy," he added, "and
patch up our brittle friend, here."
So they made the little laugh secure in the basket, and went on toward
the Smithy. It kept them all amused by the happy, ridiculous little
sounds it made, giggling and scuttling and fluttering about in the
basket. Even the Brown Teddy-Bear smiled once or twice.
Toward sundown they reached the Smithy, and Schlorge had soon turned
his anvil into an operating table, on which they laid the
uncomplaining little sufferer.
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