The Adventures of A Brownie

by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

  ADVENTURE THE THIRD

  BROWNIE IN THE FARMYARD

  WHICH was a place where he did not often go, for he preferred being warmand snug in the house. But when he felt himself ill-used, he wouldwander anywhere, in order to play tricks upon those whom he thought haddone him harm; for, being only a Brownie, and not a man, he did notunderstand that the best way to revenge yourself upon your enemies iseither to let them alone or to pay them back good for evil--itdisappoints them so much, and makes them so exceedingly ashamed ofthemselves.

  One day Brownie overheard the Gardener advising the Cook to put sourmilk into his bowl at night, instead of sweet.

  "He'd never find out the difference, no more than the pigs do. Indeed,it's my belief that a pig, or dog, or something, empties the bowl, andnot a Brownie, at all. It's just clean waste--that's what I say."

  "Then you'd better hold your tongue, and mind your own business,"returned the Cook, who was of a sharp temper, and would not stand beingmeddled with. She began to abuse the Gardener soundly; but his wife, whowas standing by, took his part, as she always did when any third partyscolded him. So they all squabbled together, till Brownie, hid under hiscoal, put his little hands over his little ears.

  "Dear me, what a noise these mortals do make when they quarrel! Theyquite deafen me. I must teach them better manners."

  But when the Cook slammed the door to, and left Gardener and his wifealone, they too began to dispute between themselves.

  "You make such a fuss over your nasty pigs, and get all the scraps forthem," said the wife. "It's of much more importance that I should haveeverything Cook can spare for my chickens. Never were such fine chickensas my last brood!"

  "I thought they were ducklings."

  "How you catch me up, you rude old man! They are ducklings, andbeauties, too--even though they have never seen water. Where's the pondyou promised to make for me, I wonder?"

  "Rubbish, woman! If my cows do without a pond, your ducklings may. Andwhy will you be so silly as to rear ducklings at all? Fine fat chickensare a deal better. You'll find out your mistake some day."

  "And so will you when that old Alderney runs dry. You'll wish you hadtaken my advice, and fattened and sold her."

  "Alderney cows won't sell for fattening, and women's advice is neverworth twopence. Yours isn't worth even a half-penny. What are youlaughing at?"

  "I wasn't laughing," said the wife, angrily; and, in truth, it was notshe, but little Brownie, running under the barrow which the Gardener waswheeling along, and very much amused that people should be so silly asto squabble about nothing.

  It was still early morning; for, whatever this old couple's faults mightbe, laziness was not one of them. The wife rose with the dawn to feedher poultry and collect her eggs; the husband also got through as muchwork by breakfast-time as many an idle man does by noon. But Brownie hadbeen beforehand with them this day.

  When all the fowls came running to be fed, the big Brahma hen who hadwatched the ducklings was seen wandering forlornly about, and cluckingmournfully for her young brood--she could not find them anywhere. Hadshe been able to speak, she might have told how a large white Aylesburyduck had waddled into the farmyard, and waddled out again, coaxing themafter her, no doubt in search of a pond. But missing they were, mostcertainly.

  "Cluck, cluck, cluck!" mourned the miserable hen-mother--and, "Oh, myducklings, my ducklings!" cried the Gardener's wife--"Who can havecarried off my beautiful ducklings?"

  "Rats, maybe," said the Gardener, cruelly, as he walked away. And as hewent he heard the squeak of a rat below his wheelbarrow. But he couldnot catch it, any more than his wife could catch the Aylesbury duck. Ofcourse not. Both were--the Brownie!

  Just at this moment the six little people came running into thefarmyard. When they had been particularly good, they were sometimesallowed to go with Gardener a-milking, each carrying his or her own mugfor a drink of milk, warm from the cow. They scampered after him--anoisy tribe, begging to be taken down to the field, and holding outtheir six mugs entreatingly.

  "What! six cupfuls of milk, when I haven't a drop to spare, and Cook isalways wanting more? Ridiculous nonsense! Get along with you; you maycome to the field--I can't hinder that--but you'll get no milk to-day.Take your mugs back again to the kitchen."

  A noisy tribe, holding out their six mugs entreatingly.]

  The poor little folks made the best of a bad business, and obeyed; thenfollowed Gardener down to the field, rather dolefully. But it was such abeautiful morning that they soon recovered their spirits. The grassshone with dew, like a sheet of diamonds, the clover smelled so sweet,and two skylarks were singing at one another high up in the sky. Severalrabbits darted past, to their great amusement, especially one very largerabbit--brown, not gray--which dodged them in and out, and once nearlythrew Gardener down, pail and all, by running across his feet; which setthem all laughing, till they came where Dolly, the cow, lay chewing thecud under a large oak-tree.

  It was great fun to stir her up, as usual, and lie down, one after theother, in the place where she had lain all night long, making the grassflat, and warm, and perfumy with her sweet breath. She let them do it,and then stood meekly by; for Dolly was the gentlest cow in the world.

  But this morning something strange seemed to possess her. She altogetherrefused to be milked--kicked, plunged, tossed over the pail, which wasluckily empty.

  "Bless the cow! what's wrong with her? It's surely you children's fault.Stand off, the whole lot of you. Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!"

  But Dolly was any thing but good. She stood switching her tail, andlooking as savage as so mild an animal possibly could look.

  "It's all your doing, you naughty children! You have been playing hersome trick, I know," cried the Gardener, in great wrath.

  They assured him they had done nothing, and indeed, they looked as quietas mice and as innocent as lambs. At length the biggest boy pointed outa large wasp which had settled in Dolly's ear.

  "That accounts for everything," said the Gardener.

  But it did not mend everything; for when he tried to drive it away itkept coming back and back again, and buzzing round his own head and thecow's with a voice that the children thought was less like a buzz of awasp than the sound of a person laughing. At length it frightened Dollyto such an extent that, with one wild bound she darted right away, andgalloped off to the farther end of the field.

  "I'll get a rope and tie her legs together," cried the Gardener,fiercely. "She shall repent giving me all this trouble--that she shall!"

  "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed somebody. The Gardener thought it was thechildren, and gave one of them an angry cuff as he walked away. But theyknew it was somebody else, and were not at all surprised when, theminute his back was turned, Dolly came walking quietly back, led by alittle wee brown man who scarcely reached up to her knees. Yet she lethim guide her, which he did as gently as possible, though the string heheld her by was no thicker than a spider web, floating from one of herhorns.

  "Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!" cried Brownie, mimicking the Gardener's voice."Now we'll see what we can do. I want my breakfast badly--don't you,little folks?"

  Of course they did, for the morning air made them very hungry.

  "Very well--wait a bit, though. Old people should be served first, youknow. Besides, I want to go to bed."

  "Go to bed in the daylight!" The children all laughed, and then lookedquite shy and sorry, lest they might have seemed rude to the littleBrownie. But he--he liked fun; and never took offence when none wasmeant.

  He placed himself on the milking-stool, which was so high that hislittle legs were dangling half-way down, and milked and milked--Dollystanding as still as possible--till he had filled the whole pail. Mostastonishing cow! she gave as much as two cows; and such delicious milkas it was--all frothing and yellow--richer than even Dolly's milk hadever been before. The children's mouths watered for it, but not a wordsaid they--even when, instead of giving it to them, Brownie put his ownmouth to the pail, and drank and dr
ank, till it seemed as if he werenever going to stop. But it was decidedly a relief to them when hepopped his head up again, and lo! the pail was as full as ever!

  "Now, little ones, now's your turn. Where are your mugs?"

  All answered mournfully, "We've got none. Gardener made us take themback again."

  "Never mind--all right. Gather me half a dozen of the biggest buttercupsyou can find."

  "What nonsense!" thought the children; but they did it. Brownie laid theflowers in a row upon the eldest girl's lap--blew upon them one by one,and each turned into the most beautiful golden cup that ever was seen!

  "Now, then, every one take his own mug, and I'll fill it."

  He milked away--each child got a drink, and then the cups were filledagain. And all the while Dolly stood as quiet as possible--lookingbenignly round, as if she would be happy to supply milk to the wholeparish, if the Brownie desired it.

  "Soh, Dolly! Thank you, Dolly!" said he, again, mimicking the Gardener'svoice, half growling, half coaxing. And while he spoke, the real voicewas heard behind the hedge. There was a sound as of a great wasp flyingaway, which made Dolly prick up her ears, and look as if the oldsavageness was coming back upon her. The children snatched up theirmugs, but there was no need, they had all turned into buttercups again.

  Gardener jumped over the stile, as cross as two sticks, with an old ropein his hand.

  "Oh, what a bother I've had! Breakfast ready, and no milk yet--and sucha row as they are making over those lost ducklings. Stand back, youchildren, and don't hinder me a minute. No use begging--not a drop ofmilk shall you get. Hillo, Dolly? Quiet old girl!"

  Quiet enough she was this time--but you might as well have milked aplaster cow in a London milking-shop. Not one ringing drop resoundedagainst the empty pail; for, when they peeped in, the children saw, totheir amazement, that it was empty.

  Each child got a drink, and then the cups were filledagain.--Page 32]

  "The creature's bewitched!" cried the Gardener, in a great fury. "Orelse somebody has milked her dry already. Have you done it? or you?" heasked each of the children.

  They might have said No--which was the literal truth--but then it wouldnot have been the whole truth, for they knew quite well that Dolly hadbeen milked, and also who had done it. And their mother had alwaystaught them that to make a person believe a lie is nearly as bad astelling him one. Yet still they did not like to betray the kind littleBrownie. Greatly puzzled, they hung their heads and said nothing.

  "Look in your pail again," cried a voice from the other side of Dolly.And there at the bottom was just the usual quantity of milk--no more andno less.

  The Gardener was very much astonished. "It must be the Brownie!"muttered he, in a frightened tone; and, taking off his hat, "Thank you,sir," said he to Mr. Nobody--at which the children all burst outlaughing. But they kept their own counsel, and he was afraid to ask themany more questions.

  By-and-by his fright wore off a little. "I only hope the milk is goodmilk, and will poison nobody," said he, sulkily. "However, that's not myaffair. You children had better tell your mother all about it. I lefther in the farmyard in a pretty state of mind about her ducklings."

  Perhaps Brownie heard this, and was sorry, for he liked the children'smother, who had always been kind to him. Besides, he never did any bodyharm who did not deserve it; and though, being a Brownie, he couldhardly be said to have a conscience, he had something which stood in theplace of one--a liking to see people happy rather than miserable.

  So, instead of going to bed under his big coal for the day, when, afterbreakfast, the children and their mother came out to look at a new broodof chickens, he crept after them and hid behind the hencoop where theold mother-hen was put, with her young ones round her.

  There had been great difficulty in getting her in there, for she was ahen who hatched her brood on independent principles. Instead of sittingupon the nice nest that the Gardener made for her, she had twice goneinto a little wood close by and made a nest for herself, which nobodycould ever find; and where she hatched in secret, coming every secondday to be fed, and then vanishing again, till at last she re-appeared intriumph, with her chickens running after her. The first brood there hadbeen twelve, but of this there were fourteen--all from her own eggs, ofcourse, and she was uncommonly proud of them. So was the Gardener, sowas the mistress--who liked all young things. Such a picture as theywere! fourteen soft, yellow, fluffy things, running about after theirmother. It had been a most troublesome business to catch--first her, andthen them, to put them under the coop. The old hen resisted, and peckedfuriously at Gardener's legs, and the chickens ran about in franticterror, chirping wildly in answer to her clucking.

  At last, however, the little family was safe in shelter, and thechickens counted over, to see that none had been lost in the scuffle.How funny they were! looking so innocent and yet so wise, as chickensdo--peering out at the world from under their mother's wing, or hoppingover her back, or snuggled all together under her breast, so thatnothing was seen of them but a mass of yellow legs, like a greatcentiped.

  "How happy the old hen is," said the children's mother, looking on, andthen looking compassionately at that other forlorn old hen, who hadhatched the ducklings, and kept wandering about the farmyard, cluckingmiserably, "Those poor ducklings, what can have become of them? If ratshad killed them, we should have found feathers or something; and weaselswould have sucked their brains and left them. They must have beenstolen, or wandered away, and died of cold and hunger--my poorducklings!"

  The mistress sighed, for she could not bear any living thing to suffer.And the children nearly cried at the thought of what might be happeningto their pretty ducklings. That very minute a little wee brown facepeered through a hole in the hencoop, making the old mother-hen flyfuriously at it--as she did at the slightest shadow of an enemy to herlittle ones. However, no harm happened--only a guinea-fowl suddenly ranacross the farmyard, screaming in its usual harsh voice. But it was notthe usual sort of guinea-fowl, being larger and handsomer than any oftheirs.

  "Oh, what a beauty of a creature! how did it ever come into ourfarmyard," cried the delighted children; and started off after it, tocatch it if possible.

  But they ran, and they ran--through the gate and out into the lane; andthe guinea-fowl still ran on before them, until, turning round a corner,they lost sight of it, and immediately saw something else, equallycurious. Sitting on the top of a big thistle--so big that he must havehad to climb it just like a tree--was the Brownie. His legs werecrossed, and his arms too, his little brown cap was stuck knowingly onone side, and he was laughing heartily.

  "How do you do? Here I am again. I thought I wouldn't go to bed afterall. Shall I help you to find the ducklings? Very well! come along."

  They crossed the field, Brownie running beside them, and as fast as theycould, though he looked such an old man; and sometimes turning over onlegs and arms like a Catherine wheel--which they tried to imitate, butgenerally failed, and only bruised their fingers and noses.

  He lured them on and on till they came to the wood, and to a green pathin it, which well as they knew the neighborhood, none of the childrenhad ever seen before. It led to a most beautiful pond, as clear ascrystal and as blue as the sky. Large trees grew round it, dipping theirbranches in the water, as if they were looking at themselves in a glass.And all about their roots were quantities of primroses--the biggestprimroses the little girls had ever seen. Down they dropped on their fatknees, squashing more primroses than they gathered, though they tried togather them all; and the smallest child even began to cry because herhands were so full that the flowers dropped through her fingers. But theboys, older and more practical, rather despised primroses.

  "I thought we had come to look for ducklings," said the eldest. "Motheris fretting dreadfully about her ducklings. Where can they be?"

  "Shut your eyes, and you'll see," said the Brownie, at which they alllaughed, but did it; and when they opened their eyes again, what shouldthey behold but a wh
ole fleet of ducklings sailing out from the roots ofan old willow-tree, one after the other, looking as fat and content aspossible, and swimming as naturally as if they had lived on a pond--andthis particularly pond, all their days.

  "Count them," said the Brownie, "the whole eight--quite correct. Andthen try and catch them--if you can."

  Easier said than done. The boys set to work with greatsatisfaction--boys do so enjoy hunting something. They coaxed them--theyshouted at them--they threw little sticks at them; but as soon as theywanted them to go one way the fleet of ducklings immediately turnedround and sailed another way, doing it so deliberately and majestically,that the children could not help laughing. As for little Brownie, he saton a branch of the willow-tree, with his legs dangling down to thesurface of the pond, kicking at the water-spiders, and grinning with allhis might. At length, quite tired out, in spite of their fun, thechildren begged for his help, and he took compassion on them.

  "Turn round three times and see what you can find," shouted he.

  Immediately each little boy found in his arms, and each little girl inher pinafore, a fine fat duckling. And there being eight of them, thetwo elder children had each a couple. They were rather cold and damp,and slightly uncomfortable to cuddle, ducks not being used to cuddling.Poor things! they struggled hard to get away. But the children huggedthem tight, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them through thewood, forgetting, in their joy, even to say "Thank you" to the littleBrownie.

  When they reached their mother she was as glad as they, for she neverthought to see her ducklings again; and to have them back alive anduninjured, and watch them running to the old hen, who received them withan ecstasy of delight, was so exciting, that nobody thought of asking asingle question as to where they had been found.

  When the mother did ask, the children told her about Brownie's takingthem to the beautiful pond--and what a wonderful pond it was; how greenthe trees were round it; and how large the primroses grew. They nevertired of talking about it and seeking for it. But the odd thing wasthat, seek as they might, they never could find it again. Many a day didthe little people roam about one by one, or all together, round thewood, often getting themselves sadly draggled with mud and torn withbrambles--but the beautiful pond they never found again.

  Nor did the ducklings, I suppose; for they wandered no more from thefarmyard, to the old mother-hen's great content. They grew up into fatand respectable ducks--five white ones and three gray ones--waddlingabout, very content, though they never saw water, except the tank whichwas placed for them to paddle in. They lived a lazy, peaceful, pleasantlife for a long time, and were at last killed and eaten with green peas,one after the other, to the family's great satisfaction, if not to theirown.