And, indeed, Sara was loth to go; for this strange land was an
enchanting place when its people were kind. But she saw that it was
growing late; and, as the shadows began to lengthen, she suddenly
remembered that she had followed the Snoodle away without telling
anybody. She was certainly older than the Snoodle; he was so young and
irresponsible. Ought she not to have told the Snimmy's wife? Perhaps
he was running away!
So she gathered up the reins and saw him leap safely up behind her;
then she turned to wave good-by to the Butterfly Country and its
strange, changeable, elegant inhabitants. And as long as she could see
anything she watched the pulsing, many-colored wings waving
regretfully over the royal garden with the strange flowers.
The ride home through the cool of the evening was as delightful as the
morning's ride had been; but not quite so breathless and exciting,
because it seemed to Sara by this time quite natural to ride upon a
Gahoppigas. But when she slid off her charger at the entrance of the
Plynck's Garden her ears were assailed by an unspeakable clamor of
mournful sound; it sounded a little like a Swiss yodler with a broken
heart, and a little like a dog howling because the yodler was singing.
And it went "Snoodle-oodle-oodle-ooo!!" And Sara knew, with a sinking
heart, that it was the Snimmy's wife lifting up her voice in
lamentation for her lost child.
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