The Adventures of A Brownie Part 8

"Then it's those horrid children; they are always up to some mischief or other--just let me catch them!"

"You'd better not," said somebody in a voice exactly like Gardener's, though he himself declared he had not spoken a word. Indeed, he was fast asleep.

"Well, it's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of," the Gardener's wife said, supposing she was talking to her husband all the time; but soon she held her tongue, for she found here and there among the clothes all sorts of queer marks--marks of fingers, and toes, and heels, not in mud at all, but in coal-dust, as black as black could be.

Now, as the place where the big coal had tumbled out of the barrow was fully fifty yards from the orchard, and, as the coal could not come to the clothes, and the clothes could not go without hands, the only conclusion she could arrive at was--well, no particular conclusion at all!

It was too late that night to begin washing again; besides, she was extremely tired, and her husband woke up rather worse than usual, so she just bundled the clothes up anyhow in a corner, put the kitchen to rights, and went mournfully to bed.

Next morning she got up long before it was light, washed her clothes through all over again, and, it being impossible to dry them by the fire, went out with them once more, and began spreading them out in their usual corner, in a hopeless and melancholy manner. While she was at it, the little folks came trooping around her. She didn't scold them this time, she was too low-spirited.

"No! my old man isn't any better, and I don't fancy he ever will be,"

said she, in answer to their questions. "And every thing's going wrong with us--just listen!" And she told the trick which had been played her about the clothes.

The little people tried not to laugh, but it was so funny; and even now, the minute she had done hanging them out, there was something so droll in the way the clothes blew about, without any wind; the shirts hanging with their necks downward, as if there was a man inside them; and the drawers standing stiffly astride on the gooseberry-bushes, for all the world as if they held a pair of legs still. As for Gardener's night-caps--long, white cotton, with a ta.s.sel at the top--they were alarming to look at; just like a head stuck on the top of a pole.

The whole thing was so peculiar, and the old woman so comical in her despair, that the children, after trying hard to keep it in, at last broke into shouts of laughter. She turned furiously upon them.

"It was you who did it!"

"No, indeed it wasn't!" said they, jumping farther to escape her blows.

For she had got one of her clothes-props, and was laying about her in the most reckless manner. However, she hurt n.o.body, and then she suddenly burst out, not laughing, but crying.

"It's a cruel thing, whoever has done it, to play such tricks on a poor old body like me, with a sick husband that she works hard for, and not a child to help her. But I don't care. I'll wash my clothes again, if it's twenty times over, and I'll hang them out again in the very place, just to make you all ashamed of yourselves."

Perhaps the little people were ashamed of themselves, though they really had not done the mischief. But they knew quite well who had done it, and more than once they were about to tell; only they were afraid, if they did so, they should vex the Brownie so much that he would never come and play with them any more.

So they looked at one another without speaking, and when the Gardener's wife had emptied her basket and dried her eyes, they said to her, very kindly:

"Perhaps no harm may come to your clothes this time. We'll sit and watch them till they are dry."

"Just as you like; I don't care. Them that hides can find, and them that plays tricks knows how to stop 'em."

It was not a civil speech, but then things were hard for the poor old woman. She had been awake nearly all night, and up washing at daybreak; her eyes were red with crying, and her steps weary and slow. The little children felt quite sorry for her, and, instead of going to play, sat watching the clothes as patiently as possible.

Nothing came near them. Sometimes, as before, the things seemed to dance about without hands, and turn into odd shapes, as if there were people inside them; but not a creature was seen and not a sound was heard. And though there was neither wind nor sun, very soon all the linen was perfectly dry.

"Fetch one of mother's baskets, and we'll fold it up as tidily as possible--that is, the girls can do it, it's their business--and we boys will carry it safe to Gardener's cottage."

So said they, not liking to say that they could not trust it out of their sight for fear of Brownie, whom, indeed, they were expecting to see peer round from every bush. They began to have a secret fear that he was rather a naughty Brownie; but then, as the eldest little girl whispered, "He was only a Brownie, and knew no better." Now they were growing quite big children, who would be men and women some time; when they hoped they would never do any thing wrong. (Their parents hoped the same, but doubted it.)

In a serious and careful manner they folded up the clothes, and laid them one by one in the basket without any mischief, until, just as the two biggest boys were lifting their burden to carry it away, they felt something tugging at it from underneath.

"Halloo! Where are you taking all this rubbish? Better give it to me."

"No, if you please," said they, very civilly, not to offend the little brown man. "We'll not trouble you, thanks! We'd rather do it ourselves; for poor Gardener is very ill, and his wife is very miserable, and we are extremely sorry for them both."

"Extremely sorry!" cried Brownie, throwing up his cap in the air, and tumbling head over heels in an excited manner. "What in the world does extremely sorry mean?"

The children could not explain, especially to a Brownie; but they thought they understood--anyhow, they felt it. And they looked so sorrowful that the Brownie could not tell what to make of it.

He could not be said to be sorry, since, being a Brownie, and not a human being, knowing right from wrong, he never tried particularly to do right, and had no idea that he was doing wrong. But he seemed to have an idea that he was troubling the children, and he never liked to see them look unhappy.

So he turned head over heels six times running, and then came back again.

"The silly old woman! I washed her clothes for her last night in a way she didn't expect. I hadn't any soap, so I used a little mud and coal-dust, and very pretty they looked. Ha, ha, ha! Shall I wash them over again to-night?"

"Oh, no, please don't!" implored the children.

"Shall I starch and iron them? I'll do it beautifully. One--two--three, five--six--seven, Abracadabra, tum--tum--ti!" shouted he, jabbering all sorts of nonsense, as it seemed to the children, and playing such antics that they stood and stared in the utmost amazement, and quite forgot the clothes. When they looked round again, the basket was gone.

"Seek till you find, seek till you find, Under the biggest gooseberry-bush, exactly to your mind."

They heard him singing this remarkable rhyme, long after they had lost sight of him. And then they all set about searching; but it was a long while before they found, and still longer before they could decide, which was the biggest gooseberry-bush, each child having his or her opinion--sometimes a very strong one--on the matter. At last they agreed to settle it by pulling half-a-dozen little sticks, to see which stick was the longest, and the child that held it was to decide the gooseberry-bush.

This done, underneath the branches what should they find but the identical basket of clothes! only, instead of being roughly dried, they were all starched and ironed in the most beautiful manner. As for the shirts, they really were a picture to behold, and the stockings were all folded up, and even darned in one or two places, as neatly as possible.

And strange to tell, there was not a single black mark of feet or fingers on any one of them.

"Kind little Brownie! clever little Brownie!" cried the children in chorus, and thought this was the most astonishing trick he had ever played.

What the Gardener's wife said about it, whether they told her any thing, or allowed her to suppose that the clothes had been done in their own laundry instead of the Brownie's (wherever that establishment might be), is more than I can tell. Of one thing only I am certain--that the little people said nothing but what was true. Also, that the very minute they got home they told their mother every thing.

But for a long time after that they were a good deal troubled. Gardener got better, and went hobbling about the place again, to his own and every body's great content, and his wife was less sharp-tongued and complaining than usual--indeed, she had nothing to complain of. All the family were very flourishing, except the little Brownie.

Often there was heard a curious sound all over the house; it might have been rats squeaking behind the wainscot--the elders said it was--but the children were sure it was a sort of weeping and wailing.

"They've stolen my coal, And I haven't a hole To hide in; Not even a house One could ask a mouse To bide in."

A most forlorn tune it was, ending in a dreary minor key, and it lasted for months and months--at least the children said it did. And they were growing quite dull for want of a playfellow, when, by the greatest good luck in the world, there came to the house not only a new lot of kittens, but a new baby. And the new baby was everybody's pet, including the Brownie's.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The new baby was everybody's pet.--Page 87]

From that time, though he was not often seen, he was continually heard up and down the staircase, where he was frequently mistaken for Tiny or the cat, and sent sharply down again, which was wasting a great deal of wholesome anger upon Mr. n.o.body. Or he lurked in odd corners of the nursery, whither the baby was seen crawling eagerly after nothing in particular, or sitting laughing with all her might at something--probably her own toes.

But, as Brownie was never seen, he was never suspected. And since he did no mischief--neither pinched the baby nor broke the toys, left no soap in the bath and no footmarks about the room--but was always a well-conducted Brownie in every way, he was allowed to inhabit the nursery (or supposed to do so, since, as n.o.body saw him, n.o.body could prevent him), until the children were grown up into men and women.

After that he retired into his coal-cellar, and, for all I know, he may live there still, and have gone through hundreds of adventures since; but as I never heard them, I can't tell them. Only I think, if I could be a little child again, I should exceedingly like a Brownie to play with me. Should not you?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Some Poems For Children

By Miss Mulock]

THE BLACKBIRD AND THE ROOKS.

A SLENDER young Blackbird built in a thorn-tree A spruce little fellow as ever could be; His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black, So long was his tail, and so glossy his back, That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs, And only just left them to stretch her poor legs, And pick for a minute the worm she preferred, Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird.