The Adventures of A Brownie

by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

  ADVENTURE THE FOURTH

  BROWNIE'S RIDE

  FOR the little Brownie, though not given to horsemanship, did once takea ride, and a very remarkable one it was. Shall I tell you all about it?

  The six little children got a present of something they had longed forall their lives--a pony. Not a rocking-horse, but a real live pony--aShetland pony, too, which had traveled all the way from the ShetlandIsles to Devonshire--where every body wondered at it, for such acreature had not been seen in the neighborhood for years and years. Shewas no bigger than a donkey, and her coat, instead of being smooth likea horse's, was shaggy like a young bear's. She had a long tail, whichhad never been cut, and such a deal of hair in her mane and over hereyes that it gave her quite a fierce countenance. In fact, among themild and tame Devonshire beasts, the little Shetland pony looked almostlike a wild animal. But in reality she was the gentlest creature in theworld. Before she had been many days with them, she began to know thechildren quite well; followed them about, ate corn out of the bowl theyheld out to her; nay, one day, when the eldest little girl offered herbread-and-butter, she stooped her head and took it from the child'shand, just like a young lady. Indeed, Jess--that was her name--wasaltogether so lady-like in her behavior, that more than once Cookallowed her to walk in at the back-door, when she stood politely warmingher nose at the kitchen-fire for a minute or two, then turned round andas politely walked out again. But she never did any mischief; and was soquiet and gentle a creature that she bade fair soon to become as great apet in the household as the dog, the cat, the kittens, the puppies, thefowls, the ducks, the cow, the pig, and all the other members of thefamily.

  The only one who disliked her, and grumbled at her, was the Gardener.This was odd; because, though cross to children, the old man was kind todumb beasts. Even his pig knew his voice and grunted, and held out hisnose to be scratched; and he always gave each successive pig a name,Jack or Dick, and called them by it, and was quite affectionate to them,one after the other, until the very day that they were killed. But theywere English pigs--and the pony was Scotch--and the Devonshire Gardenerhated every thing Scotch, he said; besides, he was not used to groom'swork, and the pony required such a deal of grooming on account of herlong hair. More than once Gardener threatened to clip it short, and turnher into a regular English pony, but the children were in such distressand mother forbade any such spoiling of Jessie's personal appearance.

  At length, to keep things smooth, and to avoid the rough words and evenblows which poor Jess sometimes got, they sought in the village for aboy to look after her, and found a great rough, shock-headed lad namedBill, who, for a few shillings a week, consented to come up everymorning and learn the beginning of a groom's business; hoping to end, ashis mother said he should, in sitting, like the squire's fat coachman,as broad as he was long, on the top of the hammer-cloth of a grandcarriage, and do nothing all day but drive a pair of horses as stout ashimself a few miles along the road and back again.

  Bill would have liked this very much, he thought, if he could have beena coachman all at once, for if there was one thing he disliked, it waswork. He much preferred to lie in the sun all day and do nothing; and heonly agreed to come and take care of Jess because she was such a verylittle pony, that looking after her seemed next door to doing nothing.But when he tried it, he found his mistake. True, Jess was a very gentlebeast, so quiet that the old mother-hen with fourteen chicks used,instead of roosting with the rest of the fowls, to come regularly intothe portion of the cow-shed which was partitioned off for a stable, andsettle under a corner of Jess's manger for the night; and in the morningthe chicks would be seen running about fearlessly among her feet andunder her very nose.

  But, for all that, she required a little management, for she did notlike her long hair to be roughly handled; it took a long time to cleanher; and, though she did not scream out like some silly little childrenwhen her hair was combed, I am afraid she sometimes kicked and bouncedabout, giving Bill a deal of trouble--all the more trouble, the moreimpatient Bill was.

  And then he had to keep within call, for the children wanted their ponyat all hours. She was their own especial property, and they insistedupon learning to ride--even before they got a saddle. Hard work it wasto stick on Jess's bare back, but by degrees the boys did it, turn andturn about, and even gave their sisters a turn too--a very littleone--just once round the field and back again, which was quite enough,they considered, for girls. But they were very kind to their littlesisters, held them on so that they could not fall, and led Jesscarefully and quietly: and altogether behaved as elder brothers should.

  Nor did they squabble very much among themselves, though sometimes itwas rather difficult to keep their turns all fair, and rememberaccurately which was which. But they did their best, being, on thewhole, extremely good children. And they were so happy to have theirpony, that they would have been ashamed to quarrel over her.

  Also, one very curious thing kept them on their good behavior. Wheneverthey did begin to misconduct themselves--to want to ride out of theirturns, or to domineer over one another, or the boys, joining together,tried to domineer over the girls, as I grieve to say boys not seldomdo--they used to hear in the air, right over their heads, the crack ofan unseen whip. It was none of theirs, for they had not got a whip; thatwas a felicity which their father had promised when they could all ridelike a young gentleman and ladies; but there was no mistaking thesound--indeed, it always startled Jess so that she set off galloping,and could not be caught again for many minutes.

  This happened several times, until one of them said, "Perhaps it's theBrownie." Whether it was or not, it made them behave better for a goodwhile; till one unfortunate day the two eldest began contending whichshould ride foremost and which hindmost on Jess's back, when"Crick--crack!" went the whip in the air, frightening the pony so muchthat she kicked up her heels, tossed both the boys over her head, andscampered off, followed by a loud "Ha, ha, ha!"

  It certainly did not come from the two boys, who had fallen--quitesafely, but rather unpleasantly--into a large nettle-bed; whence theycrawled out, rubbing their arms and legs, and looking too much ashamedto complain. But they were rather frightened and a little cross, forJess took a skittish fit, and refused to be caught and mounted again,till the bell rang for school--when she grew as meek as possible. Toolate--for the children were obliged to run indoors, and got no morerides for the whole day.

  Jess was from this incident supposed to be on the same friendly termswith Brownie as were the rest of the household. Indeed, when she came,the children had taken care to lead her up to the coal-cellar door andintroduce her properly--for they knew Brownie was very jealous ofstrangers, and often played them tricks. But after that piece ofcivility he would be sure, they thought, to take her under hisprotection. And sometimes, when the little Shetlander was restless andpricked up her ears, looking preternaturally wise under those shaggybrows of hers, the children used to say to one another, "Perhaps shesees the Brownie."

  Whether she did or not, Jess sometimes seemed to see a good deal thatothers did not see, and was apparently a favorite with the Brownie, forshe grew and thrived so much that she soon became the pride and delightof the children and of the whole family. You would hardly have known herfor the rough, shaggy, half-starved little beast that had arrived a fewweeks before. Her coat was so silky, her limbs so graceful, and her headso full of intelligence, that every body admired her. Then even Gardenerbegan to admire her too.

  "I think I'll get upon her back; it will save me walking down to thevillage," said he, one day. And she actually carried him--though, as hisfeet nearly touched the ground, it looked as if the man were carryingthe pony, and not the pony the man. And the children laughed soimmoderately, that he never tried it afterward.

  Nor Bill neither, though he had once thought he should like a ride, andgot astride on Jess; but she quickly ducked her head down, and hetumbled over it. Evidently she had her own tastes as to her riders, andmuch preferred little people to big
ones.

  Pretty Jess! when cantering round the paddock with the young folk shereally was quite a picture. And when at last she got a saddle--a new,beautiful saddle, with a pommel to take off and on, so as to suit bothboys and girls--how proud they all were, Jess included! That day theywere allowed to take her into the market-town--Gardener leading her, asBill could not be trusted--and every body, even the blacksmith, whohoped by-and-by to have the pleasure of shoeing her, said, what abeautiful pony she was!

  After this, Gardener treated Jess a great deal better, and showed Billhow to groom her, and kept him close at it too, which Bill did not likeat all. He was a very lazy lad, and whenever he could shirk work he didit; and many a time when the children wanted Jess, either there wasnobody to saddle her, or she had not been properly groomed, or Bill wasaway at his dinner, and they had to wait till he came back and could puther in order to be taken out for a ride like a genteel animal--which Iam afraid neither pony nor children enjoyed half so much as the old waysbefore Bill came.

  Still, they were gradually becoming excellent little horsemen andhorsewomen--even the youngest, only four years old, whom all the restwere very tender over, and who was often held on Jess's back and given aride out of her turn because she was a good little girl, and never criedfor it. And seldomer and seldomer was heard the mysterious sound of thewhip in the air, which warned them of quarreling--Brownie hatedquarreling.

  Jess quickly ducked her head down and Bill tumbled overit.]

  In fact, their only trouble was Bill, who never came to his work intime, and never did things when wanted, and was ill-natured, lazy, andcross to the children, so that they disliked him very much.

  "I wish the Brownie would punish you," said one of the boys; "you'dbehave better then."

  "The Brownie!" cried Bill, contemptuously; "if I caught him, I'd kickhim up in the air like this!"

  And he kicked up his cap--his only cap, it was--which, strange torelate, flew right up, ever so high, and lodged at the very top of atree which overhung the stable, where it dangled for weeks and weeks,during which time poor Bill had to go bareheaded.

  He was very much vexed, and revenged himself by vexing the children inall sorts of ways. They would have told their mother, and asked her tosend Bill away, only she had a great many anxieties just then, for theirold grandmother was very ill, and they did not like to make a fuss aboutany thing that would trouble her.

  So Bill staid on, and nobody found out what a bad, ill-natured, lazy boyhe was.

  But one day the mother was sent for suddenly, not knowing when sheshould be able to come home again. She was very sad, and so were thechildren, for they loved their grandmother--and as the carriage droveoff they all stood crying round the front-door for ever so long.

  The servants even cried too--all but Bill.

  "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said he. "What a jolly time Ishall have! I'll do nothing all day long. Those troublesome childrensha'n't have Jess to ride; I'll keep her in the stable, and then shewon't get dirty, and I shall have no trouble in cleaning her. Hurrah!what fun!"

  He put his hands in his pockets, and sat whistling the best part of theafternoon.

  The children had been so unhappy, that for that day they quite forgotJess; but next morning, after lessons were over, they came begging for aride.

  "You can't get one. The stable-door's locked and I've lost the key." (Hehad it in his pocket all the time.)

  "How is poor Jess to get her dinner?" cried a thoughtful little girl."Oh, how hungry she will be!"

  And the child was quite in distress, as were the two other girls. Butthe boys were more angry than sorry.

  "It was very stupid of you, Bill, to lose the key. Look about and findit, or else break open the door."

  "I won't," said Bill; "I dare say the key will turn up before night, andif it doesn't, who cares? You get riding enough and too much. I'll notbother myself about it, or Jess either."

  And Bill sauntered away. He was a big fellow, and the little lads wererather afraid of him. But as he walked, he could not keep his hand outof his trowsers-pocket, where the key felt growing heavier and heavier,till he expected it every minute to tumble through and come out at hisboots--convicting him before all the children of having told a lie.

  Nobody was in the habit of telling lies to them, so they never suspectedhim, but went innocently searching about for the key--Bill all the whileclutching it fast. But every time he touched it, he felt his fingerspinched, as if there was a cockroach in his pocket--or littlelobster--or something, anyhow, that had claws. At last, fairlyfrightened, he made an excuse to go into the cow-shed, took the key outof his pocket and looked at it, and finally hid it in a corner of themanger, among the hay.

  As he did so, he heard a most extraordinary laugh, which was certainlynot from Dolly the cow, and, as he went out of the shed, he felt thesame sort of pinch at his ankles, which made him so angry that he keptstriking with his whip in all directions, but hit nobody for nobody wasthere.

  But Jess--who, as soon as she heard the children's voices, set up a mostmelancholy whinnying behind the locked stable-door--began to neighenergetically. And Boxer barked, and the hens cackled, and theguinea-fowls cried "Come back, come back!" in their usual insanefashion--indeed, the whole farmyard seemed in such an excited state,that the children got frightened lest Gardener should scold them, andran away, leaving Bill master of the field.

  What an idle day he had! How he sat on the wall with his hands in hispockets, and lounged upon the fence, and sauntered around the garden! Atlength, absolutely tired of doing nothing, he went and talked with theGardener's wife while she was hanging out her clothes. Gardener had gonedown to the lower field, with all the little folks after him, so that heknew nothing of Bill's idling, or it might have come to an end.

  By-and-by Bill thought it was time to go home to his supper. "But firstI'll give Jess her corn," said he, "double quantity, and then I need notcome back to give her her breakfast so early in the morning. Soh! yougreedy beast! I'll be at you presently, if you don't stop that noise."

  For Jess, at sound of his footsteps, was heard to whinny in the mostimploring manner, enough to have melted a heart of stone.

  "The key--where on earth did I put the key?" cried Bill, whose constanthabit it was to lay things out of his hand and then forget where he hadput them, causing himself endless loss of time in searching for them--asnow. At last he suddenly remembered the corner of the cow's manger,where he felt sure he had left it. But the key was not there.

  "You can't have eaten it, you silly old cow," said he, striking Dolly onthe nose as she rubbed herself against him--she was an affectionatebeast. "Nor you, you stupid old hen!" kicking the mother of the brood,who, with her fourteen chicks, being shut out of their usualroosting-place--Jess's stable--kept pecking about under Dolly's legs."It can't have gone without hands--of course it can't." But mostcertainly the key was gone.

  What in the world should Bill do? Jess kept on making a pitifulcomplaining. No wonder, as she had not tasted food since morning. Itwould have made any kind-hearted person quite sad to hear her, thinkinghow exceedingly hungry the poor pony must be.

  Little did Bill care for that, or for anything, except that he should besure to get into trouble as soon as he was found out. When he heardGardener coming into the farmyard, with the children after him, Billbolted over the wall like a flash of lightning, and ran away home,leaving poor Jess to her fate.

  All the way he seemed to hear at his heels a little dog yelping, andthen a swarm of gnats buzzing round his head, and altogether was soperplexed and bewildered, that when he got into his mother's cottage heescaped into bed, and pulled the blanket over his ears to shut out thenoise of the dog and the gnats, which at last turned into a sound likesomebody laughing. It was not his mother, she didn't often laugh, poorsoul!--Bill bothered her quite too much for that, and he knew it.Dreadfully frightened, he hid his head under the bedclothes, determinedto go to sleep and think about nothing till next day.

&nb
sp; Meantime Gardener returned, with all the little people trooping afterhim. He had been rather kinder to them than usual this day, because heknew their mother had gone away in trouble, and now he let them help himto roll the gravel, and fetch up Dolly to be milked, and watch him milkher in the cow-shed--where, it being nearly winter, she always spent thenight now. They were so well amused that they forgot all about theirdisappointment as to the ride, and Jess did not remind them of it byher whinnying. For as soon as Bill was gone she grew silent.

  At last one little girl, the one who had cried over Jess's being lefthungry, remembered the poor pony, and, peeping through a crevice in thecow-shed, saw her stand contentedly munching at a large bowlful of corn.

  "So Bill did find the key. I'm very glad," thought the kind littlemaiden, and to make sure looked again, when--what do you think shebeheld squatting on the manger? Something brown--either a large brownrat, or a small brown man. But she held her tongue, since, being a verylittle girl, people sometimes laughed at her for the strange things shesaw. She was quite certain she did see them, for all that.

  So she and the rest of the children went indoors and to bed. When theywere fast asleep, something happened. Something so curious, that theyoungest boy, who, thinking he heard Jess neighing, got up to look out,was afraid to tell, lest he too should be laughed at, and went back tobed immediately.

  In the middle of the night, a little old brown man carrying a lantern,or at least having a light in his hand that looked like a lantern--wentand unlocked Jess's stable, and patted her pretty head. At first shestarted, but soon she grew quiet and pleased, and let him do what hechose with her. He began rubbing her down, making the same funny hissingwith his mouth that Bill did, and all grooms do--I never could find outwhy. But Jess evidently liked it, and stood as good as possible.

  Up the bank she scrambled, her long hair dripping.--Page55]

  "Isn't it nice to be clean?" said the wee man, talking to her as if shewere a human being, or a Brownie. "And I dare say your poor littlelegs ache with standing so long. Shall we have a run together? the moonshines bright in the clear, cold night. Dear me! I'm talking poetry."

  But Brownies are not poetical fairies, quite commonplace, and up to allsorts of work. So, while he talked, he was saddling and bridling Jess,she not objecting in the least. Finally, he jumped on her back.

  "'Off, said the stranger--off, off, and away!'" sang Brownie mimicking asong of the Cook's. People in that house often heard their songsrepeated in the oddest way, from room to room, everybody fancying it wassomebody else that did it. But it was only the Brownie. "Now, 'Asoutherly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim a hunting morning!'"

  Or night--for it was the middle of the night, though bright as day--andJess galloped and the Brownie sat on her back as merrily as if they hadgone hunting together all their days.

  Such a steeple-chase it was! They cleared the farmyard at a singlebound, and went flying down the road, and across the ploughed field, andinto the wood. Then out into the open country, and by-and-by into adark, muddy lane--and oh! how muddy Devonshire lanes can be sometimes!

  "Let's go into the water to wash ourselves," said Brownie, and coaxedJess into a deep stream, which she swam as bravely as possible--she hadnot had such a frolic since she left her native Shetland Isles. Up thebank she scrambled, her long hair dripping as if she had been awater-dog instead of a pony. Brownie, too, shook himself like a rat or abeaver, throwing a shower round him in all directions.

  "Never mind; at it again, my lass!" and he urged Jess into the wateronce more. Out she came, wetter and brisker than ever, and went backhome again through the lane, and the wood, and the ploughed field,galloping like the wind, and tossing back her ears and mane and tail,perfectly frantic with enjoyment.

  But when she reached her stable, the plight she was in would have drivenany respectable groom frantic too. Her sides were white with foam, andthe mud was sticking all over her like a plaster. As for her beautifullong hair, it was all caked together in a tangle, as if all the combs inthe world would never make it smooth again. Her mane especially wasplaited into knots, which people in Devonshire call elf-locks, and say,when they find them on their horses, that it is because the fairies havebeen riding them.

  Certainly, poor Jess had been pretty well ridden that night. When justas the dawn began to break, Gardener got up and looked into thefarmyard, his sharp eye caught sight of the stable-door wide open.

  "Well done, Bill," shouted he, "up early at last. One hour beforebreakfast is worth three after."

  But no Bill was there; only Jess, trembling and shaking, all in a foam,and muddy from head to foot, but looking perfectly cheerful in her mind.And out from under her fore legs ran a small creature which Gardenermistook for Tiny, only Tiny was gray, and this dog was brown, of course!

  I should not like to tell you all that was said to Bill when, an hourafter breakfast-time, he came skulking up to the farm. In fact, wordsfailing, Gardener took a good stick and laid it about Bill's shoulders,saying he would either do this, or tell the mistress of him, and how hehad left the stable-door open all night, and some bad fellow had stolenJess, and galloped her all across the country, till, if she hadn't beenthe cleverest pony in the world, she never could have got back again.

  Bill durst not contradict this explanation of the story, especially asthe key was found hanging up in its proper place by the kitchen door.And when he went to fetch it, he heard the most extraordinary sound inthe coal-cellar close by--like somebody snoring or laughing. Bill tookto his heels, and did not come back for a whole hour.

  But when he did come back, he made himself as busy as possible. Hecleaned Jess, which was half a day's work at least. Then he took thelittle people a ride, and afterward put his stable in the most beautifulorder, and altogether was such a changed Bill, that Gardener told him hemust have left himself at home and brought back somebody else: whetheror not, the boy certainly improved, so that there was less occasion tofind fault with him afterward.

  Jess lived to be quite an old pony, and carried a great manypeople--little people always, for she herself never grew any bigger. ButI don't think she ever carried a Brownie again.