“It’s the honest truth,” said the Brownie. “Listen.
“Every little wing of wind,
Every tilt of breeze,
Stirs a sound of frolicking
In the tallest trees:
Scuffling, shuffling, shouldering,
Nudges, nips, and taps,
Watch and wait a moment, child—
It’s the Chestnut Chaps!
“Elbow crowding elbow hard
In their breeches brown,
If one comrade takes a leap,
Ten come bouncing down;
When the crackle of a leaf
Shakes one lad to laughter,
Till he tumbles from his perch,
Twenty tumble after.
“Frisky with the silver frost,
Wild with windy weather,
Half the autumn-tide they spend
Giggling all together.
Rough of coat but sweet of heart,
Jolly, glad—perhaps
Never finer fellows lived
Than the Chestnut Chaps!”
As he finished, there came a series of clicks overhead, and seven Chestnut Chaps landed suddenly at the travelers’ very feet. As they fell, two gray squirrels darted out to the end of a limb, their tails jerking with excitement; but the Brownie waved them back.
“In this wood,” he said, “squirrels are not allowed to feed on chestnuts.” He turned to the squirrels, who were scowling at him from a high branch. “And you know that very well,” he added.
The squirrels merely looked sulky, and so the Brownie addressed himself to Amos. “What,” he asked, “is your candid opinion about the wood-folk, anyway?”
“The wood-folk?” Amos said. He had not known that he had any opinion about the wood-folk, but just then a clock struck four, and suddenly he formed an opinion on the spot.
“The wood-folk scamper to and fro;
They have no tasks to do.
It’s here and there and high and low
For them, the whole day through;
Up to the tops of highest trees,
In holes and caves, and where they please.