All this time the Elf had been seated on a broad leaf swinging like a pendulum, and gazing into the clouds. She suddenly stopped and looked into the Ensign's face. "Dear me!" she cried, "I--I--and so it's not Bruce this time? The rogue--the scamp--the--ah!--Wheeze! How could he dare to deceive me so?--Hoogh!" For one minute Madam Breeze sat still, actually for a whole minute! The fact is, she was just a trifle afraid of Ensign Lawe, the only one of all the Brownies, by the way, who ever dashed her high spirits a particle. During that moment the good Elf looked as sober as she could then threw her heels up and her head down, and swung away furiously for a few seconds. "Oho! It's you, is it? Well, things must be serious when Lawe comes a-gossiping to Madam Breeze. Well, well! Cheer up, cheer up, Mr. Sobersides! "Shall we, inclined to sadness, Strike melancholy's string? Oh, no! we'll tune to gladness And merrily, merrily sing Tra, la!" The Elf trilled these words to a sprightly strain, and wound up with a laugh, a wheeze and a cough. By this time her touch of seriousness had vanished, and she was swinging as lustily as ever. "There now, Mr. Lawe. You see I'm composed and ready for business. Go on with your story. Bad news?--of course! Yes, yes--hoogh! I know something about it--bad! There,--stand still a minute, can't you?--and go on!" Lawe had stood silent and motionless, all this while, waiting for Madam Breeze to settle herself. But as he saw that this was not likely to happen, he began the story of Brownie disasters, and after many interruptions reached the matter he had in hand. "Yes, yes! I see it all," said the Elf. "Not another word--it is all right. Here, Whirlit, Keener! Put my ponies Vesper and Vacuum into the chariot--quick!" The word had scarcely been spoken ere the two pages returned leading a House Martin and a Meadow Lark, who were harnessed to a maple leaf mounted upon wheels of thistledown. The stem of the leaf served as the tongue of the chariot, and the palm of the leaf was bent over at the apex and bent up at the base, so as to make a very pretty fairy coach indeed. The lark's name was Vesper, the martin's Vacuum, and Madam Breeze had taken the liberty of nicknaming them "Vesp" and "Vac." "Come; in with you!" cried the good Elf, and suddenly contracting herself into the very smallest compass, as she was wont at times to do, she bounced into the chariot. The Ensign followed. Whirlit and Keener mounted the bird ponies, and waited for the word of command.