Then poor Bornier, who resembled a Breton gnome, came up to me.
It was the unlucky boat, the boat that was haunted by the gnome.
"It's like a fairy-tale, and going into the gnome's hill," fluttered Magsie.
The gnome picked up my bag, but was interrupted by my new friend.
As they neared the brook that ran through the meadow, the Gnome paused.
"Well, you wait and see what sort of a bubble I'll blow," replied the Gnome.
"Be careful," admonished the Gnome, as he and Ned descended the rough flight.
"Wait," cried the Gnome, as Ned leaned over to drink the cool water.
To his dismay, what the Gnome had said was, indeed, too true.
It was like a gnome guiding a fairy into some mine of wealth.