"Just as you like; I don't care. Them that hides can find, and them that plays tricks knows how to stop 'em."
It was not a civil speech, but then things were hard for the poor old woman. She had been awake nearly all night, and up washing at daybreak; her eyes were red with crying, and her steps weary and slow. The little children felt quite sorry for her, and, instead of going to play, sat watching the clothes as patiently as possible.
Nothing came near them. Sometimes, as before, the things seemed to dance about without hands, and turn into odd shapes, as if there were people inside them; but not a creature was seen and not a sound was heard. And though there was neither wind nor sun, very soon all the linen was perfectly dry.
"Fetch one of mother's baskets, and we'll fold it up as tidily as possible—that is, the girls can do it, it's their business—and we boys will carry it safe to Gardener's cottage."
So said they, not liking to say that they could not trust it out of their sight for fear of Brownie, whom, indeed, they were expecting to see peer round from every bush. They began to have a secret fear that he was rather a naughty Brownie; but then, as the eldest little girl whispered, "He was only a Brownie, and knew no better." Now they were growing quite big children, who would be men and women some time; when they hoped they would never do any thing wrong. (Their parents hoped the same, but doubted it.)
In a serious and careful manner they folded up the clothes, and laid them one by one in the basket without any mischief, until, just as the two biggest boys were lifting their burden to carry it away, they felt something tugging at it from underneath.
"Halloo! Where are you taking all this rubbish? Better give it to me."
"No, if you please," said they, very civilly, not to offend the little brown man. "We'll not trouble you, thanks! We'd rather do it ourselves; for poor Gardener is very ill, and his wife is very miserable, and we are extremely sorry for them both."
"Extremely sorry!" cried Brownie, throwing up his cap in the air, and tumbling head over heels in an excited manner. "What in the world does extremely sorry mean?"
The children could not explain, especially to a Brownie; but they thought they understood—anyhow, they felt it. And they looked so sorrowful that the Brownie could not tell what to make of it.