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

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

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

"What nonsense!" thought the children; but they did it. Brownie laid the
flowers 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 filled
again. And all the while Dolly stood as quiet as possible--looking
benignly round, as if she would be happy to supply milk to the whole
parish, if the Brownie desired it.

"Soh, Dolly! Thank you, Dolly!" said he, again, mimicking the Gardener's
voice, half growling, half coaxing. And while he spoke, the real voice
was heard behind the hedge. There was a sound as of a great wasp flying
away, which made Dolly prick up her ears, and look as if the old
savageness was coming back upon her. The children snatched up their
mugs, 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 rope
in his hand.

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

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

[Illustration: Each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled
again.--Page 32]

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

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

"Look in your pail again