The light grew and grew, and the brownie came--a different brownie indeed from the one he had pictured--with the daintiest-shaped hands and feet coming out of the midst of rags, and with no hair except roughly parted curls over the face of a cherub--for the combing of Snowball's mane and tail had taught Gibbie to use the same comb upon his own thatch.
But as soon as he opened the door of the dairy, he was warned by the loud breathing of the sleeper, and looking about, espied him on the bench behind the table, and swiftly retreated.

The same instant Fergus woke, stretched himself, saw it was broad daylight, and, with his brain muddled by fatigue and sleep combined, crawled shivering to bed.

Then in came the brownie again; and when Jean Mavor entered, there was her work done as usual.
Fergus was hours late for breakfast, and when he went into the common room, found his aunt alone there.
"Weel, auntie." he said, "I think I fleggit yer broonie!" "Did ye that, man?
Ay!--An' syne ye set tee, an' did the wark yersel to save yer auntie Jean's auld banes ?" "Na, na! I was o'er tiret for that.

Sae wad ye hae been yersel', gien ye had sitten up a' nicht." "Wha did it, than ?" "Ow, jist yersel', I'm thinkin', auntie." "Never a finger o' mine was laid till't, Fergus.

Gien ye fleggit ae broonie, anither cam; for there's the wark done, the same's ever." "Damn the cratur!" cried Fergus.
"Whisht, whisht, laddie! he's maybe hearin' ye this meenute.