"But what is it?" asked Sara, still bewildered.

"Why, it's your laugh, child," said the Echo of the Plynck, who, all
this time, had been watching the scene with much amusement. "Don't you
know your own laugh when you see it?"

"I never saw it before," said Sara with a wondering smile. "I guess
I've heard it."

"Now, isn't that odd--and interesting!" said the Echo to the Plynck.
"The child says she has heard it, but never seen it. Here," she added,
turning to Sara, and speaking in a louder tone, "we see a great deal
of laughter--but we never hear it."

"Well, and are you going to stand there all day staring?" suddenly put
in the wife of the Snimmy from the prose-bush. "Ain't you going to go
after it and ketch it? What'll your Maw say if you come home without
your laugh? And your Paw?"

Sara had not thought of that. But when she did think, she realized
that it would be dreadful. What would Father think when he told her
his funniest story and she did not laugh?

"But--but what shall I do?" she wondered, half to herself.

The dolls at her feet set up a clamor of plans, but as they were all
talking at once (except the Brown Teddy-Bear, who looked even more
pessimistic than usual) their suggestions were not very helpful. Sara
and her other friends stood knitting their brows in perplexity. (Sara