knew the place very well. He ran to the north side of the pond,
and turning himself around three times, he repeated the charm. Then he
looked in and saw--himself.

"Why, there's no one but myself. I can't think of the right word. What
can it be? I'll go back and ask the Old Owl," thought Tommy. And back
he went. There sat the Owl as before.

"Oo-hoo," said she, as Tommy climbed up. "Did you find out the word?"

"No," said Tommy, "I could find no word that rhymes with 'elf' except
'myself.'"

"Well, that is the word! Now, do you know where your brother is?"

"In bed in the loft," said Tommy.

"Then all your questions are answered. Good night;" and the Old Owl
began to shake her feathers.

"Don't go yet," said Tommy, humbly; "I don't understand you. I am not
a brownie, am I?"

"Yes, you are, and a very idle one, too," said the Old Owl. "All
children are brownies."

"But are there really any brownies except children?" inquired Tommy,
in a dismal tone.

"No, there are not. Now listen to me, Tommy. Little people can do only
little things. When they are idle and mischievous, they are called
boggarts, and they are a burden to the house they live in. When they
are thoughtful and useful, they are brownies, and are a blessing to
every one."

"I'll be a brownie," said Tommy. "I won't be a boggart. Now I'll go
home and tell Johnny."

"I'll take you home," said the Owl, and in a moment Tommy found
himself in bed, with Johnny sleeping by his side.

"How quickly we came," said Tommy to himself. "But is it morning? That
is very strange! I thought the moon was shining. Come, Johnny, get up,
I have a story to tell you."

III

While his brother was rubbing his eyes Tommy told him of his visit to
the Old Owl in the grove.

"Is that all true?" asked Johnny.

"It is all just as I tell you, and if we don't want to be boggarts, we
must get up and go to work."

"I won't be a boggart," said Johnny, and so the two brownies crept
softly down the ladder into the kitchen. "I will light the fire,"
said Tommy. "And you, Johnny, can dig some potatoes to roast for
breakfast." They swept the room and laid the table. Just as they were
putting the potatoes in a dish they heard footsteps.

"There's father," said Tommy; "we must run."

The poor tailor came wearily down the stairs. Morning after morning he
had found an untidy room and an empty table. But now when he entered
the kitchen, he looked around in great surprise. He p