One evening Tommy’s grandmother had been telling him and his little
brother Johnny a story about a brownie who used to do all the work in a
neighbor’s house before the family got up in the morning. But the maids
caught sight of him one night, and they felt so sorry to see his ragged
coat that the next night they laid near his bowl of bread and milk a new
suit and a new linen shirt. Brownie put the things on and danced around
the room, singing,
“What have we here? Hemten hamten!
Here will I nevermore tread nor stampen.”
And away he danced through the door and never came back again. Tommy
wanted to know why, but his grandmother couldn’t tell him. “The Old Owl
knows,” she said, “I don’t. Ask her.”
Now Tommy was a lazy boy. He thought that if only he could find a brownie
that would do his work he would save himself a great deal of trouble. So
that night, while little Johnnie lay sound asleep beside him, in the loft
of the kitchen, as rosy and rosier than an apple, he lay broad awake,
thinking of his grandmother’s story. “There’s an owl living in the old
shed by the lake,” he thought. “It may be the Old Owl herself, and she
knows, Granny says. When father’s gone to bed and the moon rises, I’ll go
and ask her.”
By and by the moon rose like gold and went up into the heavens like
silver, flooding the fields with a pale ghostly light. Tom crept softly
down the ladder and stole out. It was a glorious night, though everything
but the wind and Tommy seemed asleep. The stones, the walls, the gleaming
lanes, were so intensely still, the church tower in the valley seemed
awake and watching, but silent; the houses in the village round it had
all their eyes shut; and it seemed to Tommy as if the very fields had
drawn white sheets over them, and lay sleeping also.
“Hoot! hoot!” said a voice from the fir wood behind him. Somebody else
was awake, then. “It’s the Old Owl,” said Tommy; and there she came
swinging heavily across the moor with a flapping stately flight, and
sailed into the shed by the lake. The old lady moved faster than she
appeared to do, and though Tommy ran hard she was in the shed some time
before him. When he got in, no bird was to be seen, but he heard a sound
from above, and there sat the Old Owl, blinking at him—Tommy—with yellow
eyes.
“Come up, come up!” said she hoarsely. She could speak then! Beyond all
doubt it was _the_ Old Owl, and none other.
“Come up here! come up here!” said the Old Owl.
Tommy had often climbed up for fun to the beam that ran across the shed
where the Old Owl sat. He climbed up now, and sat face to face with her,
and thought her eyes looked as if they were made of flame.
“Now, what do you want?” said the Owl.
“Please,” said Tommy, “can you tell me where to find the brownies, and
how to get one to come and live with us?”
“Oohoo!” said the Owl, “that’s it, is it? I know of two brownies.”
“Hurrah!” said Tommy. “Where do they live?”
“In your house,” said the Owl.
Tommy was aghast.
“In our house!” he exclaimed. “Whereabouts? Let me rummage them out. Why
do they do nothing?”
“One of them is too young,” said the Owl.
“But why doesn’t the other work?” asked Tommy.
“He is idle, he is idle,” said the Owl, and she gave herself such a shake
as she said it that the fluff went flying through the shed, and Tommy
nearly tumbled off the beam in fright.
“Then we don’t want him,” said he. “What is the use of having brownies
if they do nothing to help us? But perhaps if you would tell me where to
find them,” said Tommy, “I could tell them what to do.”
“Could you?” said the Owl. “Oohoo! oohoo!” and Tommy couldn’t tell
whether she were hooting or laughing.
“Of course I could,” he said. “They might be up and sweep the house, and
light the fire, and spread the tables, and that sort of thing, before
Father came down. The Brownie did all that in Granny’s mother’s young
days. And they might tidy the room, and fetch the turf, and pick up my
chips, and sort Granny’s scraps. Oh! there’s plenty to do.”
“So there is,” said the Owl. “Oohoo! Well, I can tell you where to find
one of the brownies; and if you can find him, he will tell you where
his brother is. But all this depends upon whether you feel equal to
undertaking it, and whether you will follow my directions.”
“I am quite ready to go,” said Tommy, “and I will do as you tell me. I
feel sure I could persuade them to come; if they only knew how every one
would love them if they made themselves useful!”
“Oohoo! oohoo!” said the Owl. “Now listen. You must go to the north side
of the lake when the moon is shining—(“I know brownies like water,”
muttered Tommy)—and turn yourself round three times, saying this charm:
‘Twist me, and turn me, and show me the Elf—
I looked in the water, and saw—’
When you have got so far look into the water, and think of a word that
will rhyme with Elf, and at the same moment you will see the brownie.”
“Is the brownie a merman,” said Tommy, “that he lives under water?”
“That depends on whether he has a fish’s tail,” said the Owl, “and that
you can see for yourself.”
“Well, the moon is shining, so I shall go,” said Tommy. “Gooby-by, and
thank you, Ma’am;” and he jumped down and went, saying to himself, “I
believe he is a merman, all the same, or else how could he live in the
lake?”
The moon shone very brightly on the center of the lake. Tommy knew the
place well, for there was an Echo there, with whom he had often talked.
Round the edges grew rushes and water plants, and turning himself three
times, as the Old Owl had told him, he repeated the charm:
“Twist me and turn me and show me the Elf—
I looked in the water and saw—”
Now for it! He looked in, and saw—his own face.
“Why, there’s no one there but myself!” said Tommy. “And what can the
word be? I must have done it wrong. It cannot be myself.”
“Myself!” said the Echo.
Tommy was almost surprised to find the Echo awake at this time of night.
“Much you know about it!” said he. “Belf! Celf! Delf! Felf! Helf! Jelf!
There can’t be a word to fit it. And then to look for a brownie and see
nothing but myself!”
“Myself,” said the Echo.
“Will you be quiet?” said Tommy. “If you would tell me the word there
would be some meaning in your interference; but to roar ‘Myself!’ at me,
which neither rhymes nor runs—it does rhyme, though, as it happens,” he
added; “how very odd! it runs too—
‘Twist me and turn me and show me the Elf—
I looked in the water and saw myself,’—
which I certainly did. What can it mean? The Old Owl knows, as Granny
would say; so I shall go back and ask her.”
And back he went. There sat the Old Owl as before.
“Oohoo!” said she, as Tommy climbed up. “What did you see in the lake?”
“I saw nothing but myself,” said Tommy, indignantly.
“And what did you expect to see?” asked the Owl.
“I expected to see a brownie,” said Tommy; “you told me.”
“And what are brownies like, pray?” inquired the Owl.
“The one Granny knew was a useful little fellow, something like a man,”
said Tommy.
“Ah!” said the Owl, “but you know at present this one is an idle little
fellow, something like a little man. Oohoo! oohoo! Good night, or rather,
good morning, for it is long past midnight.” And the old lady began to
shake her feathers for a start. “Stay,” said she, “I think I had better
take you home.”
“I know the way, thank you,” said Tommy.
“Do as I say,” said the Owl. “Lean your full weight against me and shut
your eyes.”
Tommy laid his head against the Owl’s feathers. Down he sank and sank. He
jumped up with a start to save himself, opened his eyes, and found that
he was sitting in the loft with Johnnie sleeping by his side.
“Get up, Johnnie, I’ve a story to tell you,” he cried. And he told
Johnnie all about it.
And after that Tommy and Johnnie were the most useful little brownies in
that whole country.
—From MRS. EWING’S BROWNIES