"I was there," said Tommy, "and it's all just as I tell you: and I tell
you what, if we mean to do anything we must get up: though, oh dear! I
should like to stay in bed. I say," he added, after a pause, "suppose
we do. It can't matter being Boggarts for one night more. I mean to be
a Brownie before I grow up, though. I couldn't stand boggarty
children."

"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