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It is really horrid that there are no brownies
in the world any more!
Goodfields lay high up among the
moun-tains. There were great green hills and
mead-ows stretching down towards the fjord, and
dark spruce forests above on the mountain, and
far below, the still, shining fjord. And behind
eaeh other as far as we could see there were
just mountains, exquisite blue mountains,
ris-ing into the bright sunny air.
The buildings were very big; there was
noth-ing small at Goodfields, two big main houses
with big drawing-rooms and big canopied beds
and big down puffs, and big goats’ milk cheeses
like mountains, and big milk-pans.
That’s the way it was at Goodfields, beauty
and plenty everywhere. And it all belonged
to Mother Goodfields. And she was the nicest
person in the world, for she was so kind. She
wasn’t the least bit cross when we tagged after
her in the dairy and the grain-house, and we
might eat all the green gooseberries in the
garden, if we wanted to. And everybody who was
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