“That’s the trouble,” said the Policeman. “No parts are unknown to the Brownies. The world was our oyster, and we’ve opened it. We’re just as well known in Timbuctoo as Tarrytown!”
There was an angry swell that caused Dragonfel’s galleon to toss violently up and down, but it still held secure to its anchor, and formed a picture inviting to a sailor’s eye.
The enchanter was laid upon the greensward by those who bore him, and he stirred uneasily, while his hand sought his forehead. Then he opened his eyes, and unsteadily tried to get on his feet, in which effort others sprang to his assistance.
“Where am I?” he asked, as dazed and puzzled he looked around. “What has happened?”
His gaze took in the Brownies, and, in spite of all they had just done for him, it was not a reassuring one. But somehow they feared him no longer, for they felt that no matter what further villainy he might attempt they were more than a match for him.
But before some one could answer Dragonfel Euphrosyne, the Goddess of Mirth, suddenly appeared in their midst, though no one could tell just how or from whence she came.
“Meddlesome spirit that you are,” she said sternly, addressing her words to the crestfallen enchanter, “you can no longer trouble the Brownies. Your commission to do evil has expired.”
“How so?” he demanded. “I made application for a renewal.”
“Yes,” she said, “but, through an error in the date, you were too late.”
“Too late?” he repeated blankly.