"No, miss," said Huldah, with a shake of her head. "I haven't ever
been anything but a gipsy--a basket-seller, I mean."

"Well, basket-sellers can be brownies too, especially when they come
in to help and protect poor, helpless old people, and sell their
baskets to give the money to those who need it. Have you ever heard
of fairies, Huldah?"

Huldah shook her head again, with a puzzled look in her eyes.
"No, miss."

"Well, fairies and piskies and brownies were supposed to be very
little people who lived underground, or in flowers and shells, or in
rocks and mines, by day, and only came out at night. Some of them
only danced and played and enjoyed themselves, but others, the
piskies and brownies, loved to come at night and help the sad and ill
and poor, and those who were good and kind. They would come when
folks were asleep, and tidy their kitchen for them, or chop their
wood, and spin their flax. Sometimes, for the very poor, they would
bake a batch of bread or cakes, and have all ready for them; and when
the poor people came down in the morning, cold and weak and hungry,
wondering how they would manage to get any food to eat, they would
find the kitchen clean, wood and coal to make a fire, and food in the
larder. Sometimes, too, there would be a piece of money at the
bottom of a cup. Can't you imagine how people would bless and love
those dear little industrious brownies?"

"Oh yes!" gasped Huldah, "and how I'd love to be able to do things
like that!"