," cried a voice from the other side of Dolly.
And there at the bottom was just the usual quantity of milk--no more and
no 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 out
laughing. But they kept their own counsel, and he was afraid to ask them
any more questions.

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

Perhaps Brownie heard this, and was sorry, for he liked the children's
mother, who had always been kind to him. Besides, he never did any body
harm who did not deserve it; and though, being a Brownie, he could
hardly be said to have a conscience, he had something which stood in the
place 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, after
breakfast, the children and their mother came out to look at a new brood
of chickens, he crept after them and hid behind the hencoop where the
old mother-hen was put, with her young ones round her.

There had been great difficulty in getting her in there, for she was a
hen who hatched her brood on independent principles. Instead of sitting
upon the nice nest that the Gardener made for her, she had twice gone
into a little wood close by and made a nest for herself, which nobody
could ever find; and where she hatched in secret, coming every second
day to be fed, and then vanishing again, till at last she re-appeared in
triumph, with her chickens running after her. The first brood there had
been twelve, but of this there were fourteen--all from her own eggs, of
course, and she was uncommonly proud of them. So was the Gardener, so
was the mistress--who liked all young things. Such a picture as they
were! fourteen soft, yellow, fluffy things, running about after their
mother. It had been a most troublesome business to catch--first her, and
then them, to put them under the coop. The old hen resisted, and pecked
furiously at Gardener's legs, and the chickens ran about in frantic
terror, chirping wildly in answer to her clucking.

At last, however, the little family was safe in shelter, and the
chickens counted ov