“Hoot! toot! How touchy we are! And who are you, pray?”
“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.