CHAPTER 9 Tale of the Brownies

THE Brownies had no opportunity to search for the golden locket the next day, because directly after breakfast, Grandfather Gordon proposed a trip to the skating pond.

“Wrap up warmly because the mercury is nosing below zero this morning,” he warned. “We mustn’t have any little nipped fingers or toes.”

By the time the Brownies were ready, Grandfather Gordon brought the sled and horses to the door. Loading everyone in, he tucked the robes snugly about them.

“Here comes Skip!” laughed Connie, as the dog came plunging through the snow. “He wants to go with us!”

To confirm her words, Skip began to bark and carry on at a great rate.

“Let’s take him!” pleaded Eileen. “May we?”

Grandfather Gordon tossed Skip into the sled where he snuggled down beside Rosemary.

Then off they went over the hard-packed snow to a large circular pond which adjoined the icehouse.

Already many boys and girls were gliding over the smooth ice, laughing and shouting.

“The ice is frozen six inches deep and is safe everywhere except near the icehouse where the men have been cutting ice blocks,” Grandfather Gordon told the Brownies. “Keep away from there.”

The Brownies put on their skates and then hobbled over to the edge of the pond. Connie was the first one to start off. She sailed away so easily that Veve thought there was nothing to skating.

“Here I go!” she shouted.

The little girl took a long stroke, but something went wrong. Her skate runner struck a rough place in the ice, causing her to lose her balance.

Frantically, she swung her arms, but she could not save herself. Down she went, landing with a hard thud which shook the ice.

All the Brownies burst into laughter, for Veve looked so dazed and surprised.

“Spare the ice!” Jane shouted. “We want a chance—”

Just then her feet flew out from beneath her and down she went beside Veve! Grandfather Gordon picked up both little girls, making certain that they were not hurt.

Then he took each by a hand and, walking between them, helped them to skate.

Soon all the Brownies were out on the ice having a wonderful time. Remembering Grandfather Gordon’s warning, they were careful to remain a safe distance away from the icehouse.

However, they noticed that some of the older boys actually were venturing out onto the area which had been so recently frozen. The ice there was very smooth, but dangerously thin.

“Those boys should know better!” said Connie anxiously.

Skating fairly close, she called to warn them of their danger.

“Oh, go on!” one of the boys retorted. “The ice is thick enough here. We skate where we please.”

Connie said no more. She stood a moment watching the boys cut figure eights on the clear ice. As they glided past, she could see the thin surface weave beneath their weight.

Not knowing what else to do, Connie skated back to the other Brownies. Thinking that someone should impress upon the boys that they were in danger, she looked about for Grandfather Gordon.

He was some distance away, building a log fire at the edge of the pond. His back was turned so that he had not noticed the skaters near the icehouse.

“Oh, Grandfather Gordon!” Connie said, stroking over to where he stood. “Those boys are skating on the thin ice!”

Mr. Gordon turned quickly. Then dropping a stick of wood, he started toward the icehouse.

Before he could cover half the distance, a frightened shout came from the group of skaters.

“Someone has fallen through the ice!” Grandfather Gordon exclaimed, starting to run.

Connie now was close enough to see the frightened faces of the skaters who had backed away from the thin area. In its center, she saw a jagged hole, and a boy clinging desperately to the brittle crust.

“Hold on! Hold on!” shouted Grandfather Gordon encouragingly.

Ordering Connie to keep back, he ran as close as he dared to the broken ice. Then, flinging himself flat, he pulled himself inch by inch toward the shivering boy.

Connie was very frightened, not only for the skater, but for Mr. Gordon as well. She could see the ice bending beneath his weight, and was afraid it might break at any instant and plunge him into the freezing water.

When Grandfather Gordon was within a foot of the boy, he stretched out his arms.

“Hold fast!” he commanded.

Inch by inch, he pulled the boy to ice which was thick enough to withstand their combined weights without breaking. Then he helped the lad to his feet, and wrapped his own coat about him.

“You’re the Gainsworth boy, aren’t you?” he said, recognizing him. “And a long ways from home too. I’ll take you there in my sled.”

“Th-thanks,” the boy said, his teeth chattering on the words.

Connie quickly rounded up all the Brownies, who removed their skates, and scrambled into the sled. Although the girls were sorry to have their fun end so abruptly, they were proud of Mr. Gordon for having saved the Gainsworth boy.

“You were lucky you didn’t drown,” Grandfather Gordon scolded the lad as he let him out at his own home twenty minutes later. “If you had used good common sense, you never would have risked your life skating on the thin ice.”

“I’ve sure learned my lesson,” the lad replied. “Thanks, Mr. Gordon.”

Back at the Gordon farm once more, the Brownies enjoyed another of Grandmother Gordon’s hearty lunches. Afterwards, they wrote letters home and sat reading by the fireside.

“I’m as sleepy as a cat,” Connie said, yawning drowsily. “That skating trip certainly made me tired.”

Since arriving at the Gordon farm, all of the Brownies had slept very soundly at night. In fact, their cozy feather beds were so comfortable they found it no easy matter to get up early in the morning.

On the day following the skating party, Connie and Veve were downstairs before any of the other Brownies.

Entering the kitchen, they discovered Grandmother Gordon there ahead of them. A roaring fire had been started in the wood stove.

The long table with blue and white checkered tablecloth already had been set. On the stove a thick mixture of mush boiled noisily in a big iron kettle, while bacon sizzled in an iron skillet.

“My, how delicious everything smells!” Veve declared, sniffing the air. “I scarcely can wait until breakfast.”

The girls looked about for work to do. Connie stirred the mush, taking care not to burn herself.

Then Veve noticed that the woodbox was nearly empty.

“May we bring in more wood, Mrs. Gordon?” she suggested.

“Why, yes, if you care to,” replied Grandmother Gordon. “Grandpa usually keeps the box filled, but this time he failed me.”

Veve and Connie put on their snowsuits, mittens and galoshes and went outside.

On the porch they paused for a moment to look at the frozen lake, the white-clad hills, and the ghostlike evergreens. All the world seemed white with snow.

Following the shoveled path, the girls came to the woodpile near the barn. A brown squirrel, disturbed by their approach, scampered off leaving a trail of dainty tracks.

Veve and Connie filled their arms with chopped wood and carried it back to the house. After they had made a second trip, the woodbox was filled to overflowing.

By this time, all of the Brownies except Jane were up and dressed. Veve and Connie helped pull her out of bed, and then it was time for breakfast.

“Girls,” said Miss Gordon, when the dishes had been done and morning work was out of the way, “how would you like to take a hike into the woods?”

“Now?” asked Eileen eagerly. She always liked hikes and nature study.

“It’s quite cold so early in the day. Suppose we start at ten o’clock after the sun is higher.”

To this, the Brownies enthusiastically agreed. They straightened their rooms, made the beds, and then found time on their hands.

“I know what let’s do,” proposed Connie. “Let’s hunt for Grandma Gordon’s gold locket!”

“Where shall we start?” asked Rosemary.

“The kitchen!” proposed Eileen. “That’s the most likely place.”

Mrs. Gordon said she did not mind if the girls looked through all the cupboards. Connie brought in a stepladder from the barn and climbed up to the uppermost shelf. The dishes there were quite dusty, for the shelf was too high for convenient use.

“Dear me, I haven’t cleaned up there for goodness knows how long,” Mrs. Gordon laughed. “Anything may come to light.”

While Connie handed down the dishes, the other girls washed them. She found a milk-white glass plate, which Miss Gordon said was an antique and should be kept where it could be seen and appreciated.

There was an interesting Toby jug, a cracked pink glass pitcher and a little glass boat which bore the words: “Remember the Maine.”

“Why, I lost that little boat years ago!” Mrs. Gordon exclaimed when Connie handed it down to be washed. “I never did remember what was done with it.”

“Maybe we’ll find the locket too!” laughed Rosemary.

However, the Brownies cleaned the entire shelf and did not come upon the lost trinket. Nor was it anywhere in the cupboards. One shelf contained a solid row of jelly in rainbow colors of red, orange, and mint green. On another was a vast array of canned fruit, and on a lower shelf in easy reach, a large collection of herbs and spices.

“We must make Christmas cakes and cookies soon,” said Miss Gordon when she saw the spices. “Oh, dear, our time here is so short and we have so many wonderful things to do.”

“It’s time for our hike now,” Jane reminded her.

The Brownies decided to abandon the search for the gold locket, at least for the time being. Only Connie had faith it would be found somewhere in the house. She made up her mind she would look for it whenever she had a spare moment.

“Tomorrow may we search in the attic?” she asked Grandmother Gordon.

“The attic?” repeated Mrs. Gordon, rather puzzled. “How could the locket be there?”

Connie explained that she merely thought the attic would be an interesting place to explore.

“So it is,” agreed Mrs. Gordon. “Filled to overflowing with old furniture, trunks, cast-off clothing, not to mention cobwebs. Rummage there as much as you like.”

Now Connie was not the only member of the Brownie troop to have original ideas. Jane and Rosemary also had made special plans. After talking the matter over with Miss Gordon, they had decided to have a Christmas tree for the birds.

The night before they had made careful preparations, so that the tree itself might be selected on the morning hike.

The girls had filled small cardboard boxes with seeds, had pressed peanut butter into pine cones and had fixed tiny baskets of suet and bread crumbs ready for tying onto the evergreen limbs.

When everyone was ready, the Brownies set off on their hike, Miss Gordon leading the way.

The snow was very deep, which made walking quite hard. However, the Brownies soon emerged on a firmly-packed road, which wound on toward Mr. Jeffert’s farm.

Coming to a rustic bridge, Miss Gordon paused a moment so that the Brownies might catch their breath.

“May we hike through the woods?” Jane requested. “The trees are so pretty beyond the log fence. I am sure we could find one there that would be just right for the birds’ Christmas tree.”

“Mr. Jeffert doesn’t mind if we go on his land,” the Brownie leader replied. “I telephoned him this morning to inquire.”

The girls climbed the rail fence and followed Miss Gordon through the maze of evergreens. Never had they seen such a beautiful forest of Christmas trees. The needles of the pines and spruces glistened with ice and flashed like diamonds under the bright morning sun.

The Brownies walked slowly, studying each tree as a possible feeding station for the birds.

Finally Jane came to one which exactly suited her. It was a little higher than her head, well filled out, and perfectly shaped.

“This is just the place!” she proposed.

Rosemary liked the tree and so did the other Brownies. All voted that it be made into a feeding station for the birds. Jane opened up the box of knick-knacks and the girls attached them to the limbs.

“Will the birds find it, do you think?” Rosemary asked when the task was completed. She saw several sparrows nearby, but they did not come near the tree.

“Give them time,” said Miss Gordon. “Within a day or two, I’ll practically guarantee this will be a popular bird restaurant.”

The Brownies tramped some distance on into the evergreen forest before turning back. Near the rail fence by the road, they all sat down on a log to rest.

“Tell us a story, Miss Gordon,” urged Connie. “One about the fairies.”

“No, about Brownies,” pleaded Jane.

“I might tell you the Brownie Story by Juliana Horatia Ewing, which suggests the ideals and objectives of our Brownie Scout program,” said Miss Gordon. “Some of you already have heard it.”

“I haven’t,” said Veve, eager to hear the tale. Gathering the girls about her, the Brownie leader began in a low, clear voice:

“Once upon a time, a little girl named Mary and her brother Tommy, lived in England with their grandmother and father, who was a tailor.

“Now, although the family was very poor and there was much work to do, the children never thought to help.

“So, was it surprising that the overburdened tailor one day complained to his mother that children were a grievance?

“‘No, children are not a burden but a blessing,’ the old woman replied, and she decided to prove it.

“One day when Mary asked her about the fairies, she sighed and repeated: ‘Fairies? Ah, the luck of our house is gone. It went with the Brownie, I believe.’

“‘Tell us about her,’ urged Mary. ‘Did she live with our family?’

“‘Yes, for many generations,’ replied the old woman. ‘Each morning before the family was up, she slipped in to sweep up the hearth, set out the breakfast and do all the housework. Then she would be off before anyone could catch her.’

“‘Yet they always knew it was a Brownie who came, Grandmother?’

“‘Oh, yes, they frequently could hear her laughing and playing about the house as she worked.’

“‘And her wages?’ asked little Mary.

“‘A Brownie always works for love,’ explained the old woman. ‘Sometimes though, the family would set a pancheon of clear water for her overnight, or now and then they would leave a bowl of bread and milk. Oh, she was a dainty little creature!’

“‘And why did she leave the family, Granny?’

“‘I fear only the wise old hoot owl who lives in the woods can answer that,’ sighed the grandmother.

“‘I wish I could find the owl and learn how to coax the Brownie back again,’ said little Mary. ‘It would be so nice to have her to tidy the room, run errands and pick up chips. Oh, if only she had never gone away!’

“Now then and there Mary decided to discover if she could what had become of the helpful Brownie. So one night when the moon was high, she started off in search of the wise old owl in the forest.

“A white mist lay over the moor as she made her way to the forest.

“‘Hoot! Hoot!’ suddenly said a voice directly behind her.

“‘Please, can you tell me how to find a Brownie who will come to our house and help with the work?’ Mary boldly asked the wise old bird.

“‘Oohoo!’ hooted the owl. ‘I know of two Brownies who live in your house now, but they will not work because they are so very lazy.’

“‘Two Brownies in our house?’ echoed Mary, very much surprised. ‘I wish you would tell me where to find them. I would show them how to work.’

“‘I can tell you how to find one of the Brownies,’ replied the owl. ‘Now listen closely. When the moon is shining, go to the pool in the woods, and turn yourself about three times as you repeat this charm:

‘Twist me, and turn me, and show me the Elf;

I looked in the water, and saw—’

“‘And will I see a Brownie?’ asked little Mary.

“‘If you fail to see one, it will be no use,’ answered the wise old owl.

“Off went Mary to the pool deep in the woods. Gazing deep into the dark water which was like a mirror, she slowly repeated the magic words.

“But though she looked hard for the Brownie, all she saw was her own sober reflection in the pool.

“‘I must have done it wrong,’ thought Mary. ‘Anyway, there is no word to rhyme with “Elf.”’

“Disappointed and puzzled, the little girl went back to the old owl to report that the charm had failed to work.

“‘Whoooo,’ hooted the owl, winking his sleepy eyes, ‘and what did you see in the pool?’

“‘No one but myself,’ answered little Mary.

“‘Hoot! Hoot!’ said the owl, and he seemed to be laughing in his feathers. ‘And what did you expect to see?’

“‘A Brownie! You promised me I would!’

“Then the owl explained to Mary that she herself was the Brownie and that she could make herself beloved in the household by helping with the work.

“‘I’m not sure I would enjoy being a Brownie,’ said Mary, thinking over what the owl had said. ‘I would rather have someone else do the work for me.’

“‘Fie!’ the old owl scolded crossly. ‘You would be idle and lazy—one who eats, yet never helps with the supper!’

“‘Say no more,’ sighed Mary. ‘I don’t really want to be like that. I’ll go home now and tell my brother Tommy what you have said.’

“The very next day, the little girl told her brother of her talk with the owl. Together they worked out a plan whereby they arose each morning before the old folks were awake. They swept the hearth, tidied the house and started breakfast.

“Each day the children found more and more things to do for their father and their grandmother. The house rang with laughter and everyone was much happier.

“Now this went on for many days. Then one morning, the tailor stole downstairs very early to watch for the Brownies. Instead, he saw Mary and Tommy doing the work.

“‘What’s this?’ he demanded. ‘Where are the Brownies?’

“‘We are the only ones,’ laughed Mary and Tommy.

“‘Surely this is a joke,’ declared the astonished tailor. ‘Are there no real Brownies?’

“‘We are the only ones,’ laughed Mary.

“The old tailor then agreed with his mother that children indeed were a blessing and not a burden.”

When Miss Gordon had finished the tale, she added:

“That is my own version of the Brownie story and a much shortened one. You all must read the original.”

“I already have,” declared Connie, who had obtained the tale at the Rosedale Public Library.

The Brownies all arose from the log, intending to start on toward the farmhouse.

As they were climbing the rail fence, a man in a dark flannel shirt and leather jacket strode down the road.

Evidently he had been chopping wood, for an axe was slung over his shoulder.

When the man saw the Brownies, he slackened his pace and gazed at them a trifle suspiciously. The girls began to feel a bit uncomfortable.

Now Miss Gordon knew the man only slightly. His name was Felix Gossart and his ten-acre place adjoined Mr. Jeffert’s evergreen farm. He had never seemed very friendly and less so now.

“Good morning, Mr. Gossart,” Miss Gordon said politely.

The man did not reply to the friendly greeting. He merely stared at the Brownies as they scrambled over the snowy rails of the fence.

“Trespassing on Mr. Jeffert’s property?” he asked and his voice was not pleasant.

“Indeed, we aren’t,” answered Miss Gordon. “Mr. Jeffert said we might hike through the woods.”

“Well, I wouldn’t do it again if I were you,” said Mr. Gossart, shifting the axe to the other shoulder. “Maybe you haven’t heard. Someone’s been cutting down trees in these parts. Wandering around careless like, you might run into unpleasant characters.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gossart. If we come this way again, we’ll be very careful.”

Miss Gordon said no more, but gathering the girls together, started off down the road.

“Can’t we go to the woods again?” Rosemary asked anxiously when they were well beyond Mr. Gossart’s hearing. “If we don’t we’ll never learn whether or not the birds use our feeding station.”

“When I talked to Mr. Jeffert this morning, he did not advise against going onto his property,” Miss Gordon said. “If we stay close to the road, I see no possible danger.”

“Whoever is cutting down the evergreens wouldn’t do it in the daytime at any rate,” reasoned Connie.

“Then why did Mr. Gossart warn us that we might meet unpleasant characters?” inquired Eileen nervously.

“He may have intended to be helpful,” said Miss Gordon thoughtfully. “On the other hand, I wonder—”

“You wonder what, Miss Gordon?” demanded Connie.

The Brownie leader, however, did not intend to finish what had been in her mind.

“Race you to the bridge!” she challenged.

Off she darted, with the Brownies in hot pursuit. By the time they all reached the bridge, everyone was out of breath and Mr. Gossart completely forgotten.