"I am not a Brownie," said Tommy. "Don't be too sure," said the Owl. "Did you find out the word?" "No," said Tommy. "I could find no word with any meaning that would rhyme but 'myself.'" "Well, that runs and rhymes," said the Owl. "What do you want? Where's your brother now?" "In bed in the malt-loft," said Tommy. "Then now all your questions are answered," said the Owl, "and you know what wants doing, so go and do it. Good-night, or rather good-morning, for it is long past midnight;" and the old lady began to shake her feathers for a start. "Don't go yet, please," said Tommy humbly. "I don't understand it. You know I'm not a Brownie, am I?" "Yes, you are," said the Owl, "and a very idle one too. All children are Brownies." "But I couldn't do work like a Brownie," said Tommy. "Why not?" inquired the Owl. "Couldn't you sweep the floor, light the fire, spread the table, tidy the room, fetch the turf, pick up your own chips, and sort your grandmother's scraps? You know 'there's lots to do.'" "But I don't think I should like it," said Tommy. "I'd much rather have a Brownie to do it for me." "And what would you do meanwhile?" asked the Owl. "Be idle, I suppose; and what do you suppose is the use of a man's having children if they do nothing to help him? Ah! if they only knew how every one would love them if they made themselves useful!" "But is it really and truly so?" asked Tommy, in a dismal voice. "Are there no Brownies but children?" "No, there are not," said the owl. "And pray do you think that the Brownies, whoever they may be, come into a house to save trouble for the idle healthy little boys who live in it? Listen to me, Tommy," said the old lady, her eyes shooting rays of fire in the dark corner where she sat. "Listen to me, you are a clever boy, and can understand when one speaks; so I will tell you the whole history of the Brownies, as it has been handed down in our family from my grandmother's great-grandmother, who lived in the Druid's Oak, and was intimate with the fairies. And when I have done you shall tell me what you think they are, if they are not children. It's the opinion I have come to at any rate, and I don't think that wisdom died with our great-grandmothers." "I should like to hear if you please," said Tommy. The Old Owl shook out a tuft or two of fluff, and set her eyes a-going, and began: