The Brownies and Other Tales | Page 6

old lady with
dignity. "It's a good half-mile from the churchyard. And as to white
petticoats, there wasn't a female in the house; he wouldn't have one;
and his victuals came in by the pantry window. But never mind!
Though it's as true as a sermon."
Johnnie lifted his head from his brother's knee.
"Let Granny tell what she likes, Tommy. It's a new ghost, and I should
like to know who he was, and why his victuals came in by the
window."
"I don't like a story about victuals," sulked Tommy. "It makes me think
of the bread. O Granny dear! do tell us a fairy story. You never will tell
us about the Fairies, and I know you know."
"Hush! hush!" said the old lady. "There's Miss Surbiton's Love-letter,

and her Dreadful End."
"I know Miss Surbiton, Granny. I think she was a goose. Why don't
you tell us about the Fairies?"
"Hush! hush! my dear. There's the Clerk and the Corpse-candles."
"I know the Corpse-candles, Granny. Besides, they make Johnnie
dream, and he wakes me to keep him company. Why won't you tell us
about the Fairies?"
"My dear, they don't like it," said the old lady.
"O Granny dear, why don't they? Do tell! I shouldn't think of the bread
a bit, if you told us about the Fairies. I know nothing about them."
"He lived in this house long enough," said the old lady. "But it's not
lucky to name him."
"O Granny, we are so hungry and miserable, what can it matter?"
"Well, that's true enough," she sighed. "Trout's luck is gone; it went
with the Brownie, I believe."
"Was that he, Granny?"
"Yes, my dear, he lived with the Trouts for several generations."
"What was he like, Granny?"
"Like a little man, they say, my dear."
"What did he do?"
"He came in before the family were up, and swept up the hearth, and
lighted the fire, and set out the breakfast, and tidied the room, and did
all sorts of house-work. But he never would be seen, and was off before
they could catch him. But they could hear him laughing and playing
about the house sometimes."
"What a darling! Did they give him any wages, Granny?"
"No! my dear. He did it for love. They set a pancheon of clear water for
him over night, and now and then a bowl of bread-and-milk, or cream.
He liked that, for he was very dainty. Sometimes he left a bit of money
in the water. Sometimes he weeded the garden, or threshed the corn. He
saved endless trouble, both to men and maids."
"O Granny! why did he go?"
"The maids caught sight of him one night, my dear, and his coat was so
ragged, that they got a new suit, and a linen shirt for him, and laid them
by the bread-and-milk bowl. But when Brownie saw the things, he put
them on, and dancing round the kitchen, sang,
'What have we here? Hemten hamten! Here will I never more tread nor

stampen,'
and so danced through the door, and never came back again."
"O Grandmother! But why not? Didn't he like the new clothes?"
"The Old Owl knows, my dear; I don't."
"Who's the Old Owl, Granny?"
"I don't exactly know, my dear. It's what my mother used to say when
we asked anything that puzzled her. It was said that the Old Owl was
Nanny Besom (a witch, my dear!), who took the shape of a bird, but
couldn't change her voice, and that's why the owl sits silent all day for
fear she should betray herself by speaking, and has no singing voice
like other birds. Many people used to go and consult the Old Owl at
moon-rise, in my young days."
"Did you ever go, Granny?"
"Once, very nearly, my dear."
"Oh! tell us, Granny dear.--There are no Corpse-candles, Johnnie; it's
only moonlight," he added consolingly, as Johnnie crept closer to his
knee, and pricked his little red ears.
"It was when your grandfather was courting me, my dears," said the old
lady, "and I couldn't quite make up my mind. So I went to my mother,
and said, 'He's this on the one side, but then he's that on the other, and
so on. Shall I say yes or no?' And my mother said, 'The Old Owl
knows;' for she was fairly puzzled. So says I, 'I'll go and ask her
to-night, as sure as the moon rises.'
"So at moon-rise I went, and there in the white light by the gate stood
your grandfather. 'What are you doing here at this time o' night?' says I.
'Watching your window,' says he. 'What are you doing here at this time
o' night?' 'The Old Owl knows,' said I, and