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Page 13
"I won't be a Boggart at all," said Johnnie, "it's horrid. But I don't
see how we can be Brownies, for I'm afraid we can't do the things. I
wish I were bigger!"
"I can do it well enough," said Tommy, following his brother's example
and getting up. "Don't you suppose I can light a fire? Think of all the
bonfires we have made! And I don't think I should mind having a regular
good tidy-up either. It's that stupid
putting-away-things-when-you've-done-with-them that I hate so!"
The Brownies crept softly down the ladder and into the kitchen. There
was the blank hearth, the dirty floor, and all the odds and ends lying
about, looking cheerless enough in the dim light. Tommy felt quite
important as he looked round. There is no such cure for untidiness as
clearing up after other people; one sees so clearly where the fault
lies.
"Look at that door-step, Johnnie," said the Brownie-elect, "what a mess
you made of it! If you had lifted the moss carefully, instead of
stamping and struggling with it, it would have saved us ten minutes'
work this morning."
This wisdom could not be gainsaid, and Johnnie only looked meek and
rueful.
"I am going to light the fire," pursued his brother;--"the next turfs,
you know, _we_ must get--you can tidy a bit. Look at that knife I gave
you to hold last night, and that wood--that's my fault though, and so
are those scraps by Granny's chair. What are you grubbing at that
rat-hole for?"
Johnnie raised his head somewhat flushed and tumbled.
"What do you think I have found?" said he triumphantly. "Father's
measure that has been lost for a week!"
"Hurrah!" said Tommy, "put it by his things. That's just a sort of
thing for a Brownie to have done. What will he say? And I say, Johnnie,
when you've tidied, just go and grub up a potato or two in the garden,
and I'll put them to roast for breakfast. I'm lighting such a bonfire!"
The fire was very successful. Johnnie went after the potatoes, and
Tommy cleaned the door-step, swept the room, dusted the chairs and the
old chest, and set out the table. There was no doubt he could be handy
when he chose.
"I'll tell you what I've thought of, if we have time," said Johnnie, as
he washed the potatoes in the water that had been set for Brownie. "We
might run down to the South Pasture for some mushrooms. Father said the
reason we found so few was that people go by sunrise for them to take
to market. The sun's only just rising, we should be sure to find some,
and they would do for breakfast."
"There's plenty of time," said Tommy; so they went. The dew lay heavy
and thick upon the grass by the road-side, and over the miles of
network that the spiders had woven from blossom to blossom of the
heather. The dew is the Sun's breakfast; but he was barely up yet, and
had not eaten it, and the world felt anything but warm. Nevertheless,
it was so sweet and fresh as it is at no later hour of the day, and
every sound was like the returning voice of a long-absent friend. Down
to the pastures, where was more network and more dew, but when one has
nothing to speak of in the way of boots, the state of the ground is of
the less consequence.
The Tailor had been right, there was no lack of mushrooms at this time
of the morning. All over the pasture they stood, of all sizes, some
like buttons, some like tables; and in the distance one or two ragged
women, stooping over them with baskets, looked like huge fungi also.
"This is where the fairies feast," said Tommy. "They had a large party
last night. When they go, they take away the dishes and cups, for they
are made of gold; but they leave their tables, and we eat them."
"I wonder whether giants would like to eat our tables," said Johnnie.
This was beyond Tommy's capabilities of surmise; so they filled a
handkerchief, and hurried back again, for fear the Tailor should have
come down-stairs.
They were depositing the last mushroom in a dish on the table, when his
footsteps were heard descending.
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