The Clumsy Brownie: YA/Fantasy

The tick-tock clock rocked back when the brownie slammed into. She looked up and gasped. It teetered and tilted and nearly fell over. The brownie frowned up at it, braced herself, and pushed against it with all her strength, trying to steady it. Slowly the rocking subsided, until it sat firm on its carved legs once more. The brownie looked around the house. She listened. No sound of heavy, clomping footsteps from upstairs, no whispers of children peering around the balustrade. She sighed with relief and wiped her brow with her apron. If it hadn't been for the snarl in that rug, she would have been home free. She'd succeeded in removing the dust from all the nooks and crannies, even climbing up the wood paneling to reach on top of the doors. She'd cleaned away the cups and dishes, washed them, and put them in their cupboard. She'd swiped a cloth across all the windows. She'd been about to beat the rugs to take the dust out of them (a complicated procedure that involved smuggling the rugs outside--more difficult than one might suppose when one was only a foot tall), when the snag in the rug had tripped her and nearly triggered a catastrophe. Another catastrophe.