"Oh, what a bother I've had! Breakfast ready, and no milk yet--and such a row as they are making over those lost ducklings. Stand back, you children, and don't hinder me a minute. No use begging--not a drop of milk shall you get. Hillo, Dolly? Quiet old girl!" Quiet enough she was this time--but you might as well have milked a plaster cow in a London milking-shop. Not one ringing drop resounded against the empty pail; for, when they peeped in, the children saw, to their amazement, that it was empty. [Illustration: Each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled again.--Page 32] "The creature's bewitched!" cried the Gardener, in a great fury. "Or else somebody has milked her dry already. Have you done it? or you?" he asked each of the children. They might have said No--which was the literal truth--but then it would not have been the whole truth, for they knew quite well that Dolly had been milked, and also who had done it. And their mother had always taught them that to make a person believe a lie is nearly as bad as telling him one. Yet still they did not like to betray the kind little Brownie. Greatly puzzled, they hung their heads and said nothing. "Look in your pail again," cried a voice from the other side of Dolly. And there at the bottom was just the usual quantity of milk--no more and no less. The Gardener was very much astonished. "It must be the Brownie!" muttered he, in a frightened tone; and, taking off his hat, "Thank you, sir," said he to Mr. Nobody--at which the children all burst out laughing. But they kept their own counsel, and he was afraid to ask them any more questions. By-and-by his fright wore off a little. "I only hope the milk is good milk, and will poison nobody," said he, sulkily. "However, that's not my affair. You children had better tell your mother all about it. I left her in the farmyard in a pretty state of mind about her ducklings." Perhaps Brownie heard this, and was sorry, for he liked the children's mother, who had always been kind to him. Besides, he never did any body harm who did not deserve it; and though, being a Brownie, he could hardly be said to have a conscience, he had something which stood in the place of one--a liking to see people happy rather than miserable. So, instead of going to bed under his big coal for the day, when, after breakfast, the children and their mother came out to look at a new brood of chickens, he crept after them and hid behind the hencoop where the old mother-hen was put, with her young ones round her.