“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 burst out crying.”

“What for?” said Johnnie.

“I can’t rightly tell you, my dear,” said the old lady, “but it gave me such a turn to see him.  And without more ado your grandfather kissed me.  ‘How dare you?’ said I.  ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The Old Owl knows,’ said he.  So we never went.”

“How stupid!” said Tommy.

“Tell us more about Brownie, please,” said Johnnie, “Did he ever live with anybody else?”

“There are plenty of Brownies,” said the old lady, “or used to be in my mother’s young days.  Some houses had several.”  “Oh!  I wish ours would come back!” cried both the boys in chorus.  “He’d—­