It was laughter which roused the Tailor that morning, laughter coming
through the floor from the kitchen below. He scrambled on his things
and stole down-stairs.

"It's the Brownie," he thought; "I must look, if it's for the last
time."

At the door he paused and listened. The laughter was mixed with
singing, and he heard the words--

"What have we here? Hemten hamten!
Here will I never more tread nor stampen."

He pushed in, and this was the sight that met his eyes.

The kitchen in its primeval condition of chaos, the untidy particulars
of which were the less apparent, as everything was more or less
obscured by the clouds of dust, where Johnnie reigned triumphant, like
a witch with her broomstick; and, to crown all, Tommy capering and
singing in the Brownie's bottle-green suit, brass buttons and all.

"What's this?" shouted the astonished Tailor, when he could find breath
to speak.

"It's the Brownies," sang the boys; and on they danced, for they had
worked themselves up into a state of excitement from which it was not
easy to settle down.

"Where _is_ Brownie?" shouted the father.