The Piskey-Purse

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Title:     The Piskey-Purse
Author: Enys Tregarthen [More Titles by Tregarthen]

[* The scene of 'The Piskey-Purse' is from Polzeath Bay (in maps called Hayle Bay, which is not its local name), in St. Minver parish. This charming spot was once much frequented by the Piskeys and other fairy folk, and many a quaint story used to be told about them by the old people of that place, which some of us still remember. The spot most favoured by the Piskeys for dancing was Pentire Glaze cliffs, where, alas! half a dozen lodging-houses now stand. But the marks of fairy feet are not, they say, all obliterated, and the rings where Piskeys danced may yet be seen on the great headland of Pentire, and tiny paths called 'Piskey Walks' are still there on the edge of some of the cliffs.]

Under a hill, and facing Polzeath Bay, a wild, desolate but magnificent porth on the north coast of Cornwall, stood a small stone cottage, thatched with reed, and with tiny casement windows. It was enclosed by a low hedge, also built of stone, which many generations of orange-coloured lichens, pennycakes and moss, had made pleasant to look at and soft to sit on.

The cottage and hedge thus confronting the porth, with its beach of grey-gold sand, commanded the great headland that flanked it on its north side, and leagues and leagues of shining water stretching away to where the sun went down. Three people lived in this cottage--a very old woman called Carnsew, and her two great-grandchildren--Gerna and Gelert.

They were a lonely trio, for they were the only people living at the bay at that time.

The children had nobody but themselves to play with, and nothing much to do all day long save to pick limpets for their Great-Grannie's ducks, and to help her a bit in the houseplace and in the garden, which grew very little except potatoes, cabbages, herbs, and gillyflowers. They never went to school, for there was no school for them to go to, even if their great-grandmother could have afforded to send them, which she could not; but in spite of that, they were not ignorant children, and although they did not know A from B, they knew a great deal about the Small People, or fairies, of which there were many kinds in the Cornish land.

The Great-Grannie having lived ninety odd years in the world, was well up in everything relating to the Small People, or she thought she was, and it was she who told her great-grandchildren about them.

Gerna and Gelert cared most to hear about what they called their own dear Wee Folk--the merry little Piskeys--who, Great-Grannie said, lived in one of the googs or caverns down in their bay.

Piskey Goog, as their particular cavern was called, was half-way down the beach in Great Pentire itself, and just beyond Pentire Glaze Hawn. On the top of the cliff were large Rings, where the merry Little People held their gammets, or games, and danced in the moonshine.

The children often sat on the hedge of their cottage to watch the Piskeys dancing, and, as the hedge was in view of Pentire Glaze cliffs, they could hear the Piskeys laughing, which they did so heartily that sometimes Gerna and Gelert could not help laughing too. They could also see their lights--Piskey-lights they called them--flashing on the turf until they sometimes wondered if a hundred little dinky [1]-fires were burning there.

[Footnote 1: Tiny.]

One June evening, when the moon was getting near her full and making everything beautiful, even the dark headland standing grimly out from the soft sky, the Piskeys, as they thought, were again holding their revels on the top of the cliff, and as they danced the Rings seemed one blaze, and their laughter broke more frequently than ever on the quiet of the evening. There was no other sound to be heard save the far-off growl of the sea, for the tide was down.

Gerna and her brother were on the hedge as usual, and as they watched the dark moving figures and the flashing of the little fires they longed that they, too, could join the dancers.

When the fun seemed to be at its height, the Piskey-lights went suddenly out, and a weird cry, like the cry of a sea-bird proclaiming a storm, broke on the silence, which so startled the children that they gripped each other's hands in trembling amazement. Then they saw in the moonshine hundreds and hundreds of tiny dark figures, all in a line, on the edge of the cliffs from Pentire Glaze Hawn to the cliff above Piskey Goog, some of whom seemed to be bending over the cavern; and then they disappeared.

The day following, Great-Grannie sent Gelert up to St. Hinver Churchtown, a village three miles from Polzeath, on an errand, and Gerna down to the bay to pick limpets. The little girl had picked half a basketful when she saw a dozen or more Piskey-purses lying by the side of a rock-pool. Leaving her basket near a seaweed-covered rock, she went to get them.

Her Great-Grannie had told her and Gelert that these brown, skin-like things so often found in this bay were used by the Piskeys to keep their gold in, and if they were ever lucky enough to find a Piskey-purse with their coins in it they would be rich as a Spriggan. [2]

[Footnote 2: Spriggan, a low kind of fairy.]

Gerna and her brother never forgot this: not that the dear little maid loved money, or wanted to be rich, for she certainly did not; but her Great-Grannie did, and so did her brother; and so, for their sakes, whenever Gerna saw a Piskey-purse she stooped and picked it up to see if it contained any golden pieces. But the only gold she had ever found in them were grains of sand!

When the little girl had picked up all the brown bags she could see, to look into at her leisure, her soft blue eyes were attracted by a light-brown mottled thing half-hidden under a bunch of wet seaweed. Taking it up, she found it was a Piskey-purse, at least in shape, but it was of a much lighter colour, and all over it were tiny golden rings, with a halo of silver round each, like rays shooting out from a sun. Its skin was not flat like all the other Piskey-purses she had ever seen. It was quite plump, and rather soft, like a half-ripe gooseberry, and closed at both ends, which was also unusual.

As she was wondering if it were a Piskey-purse, a tiny voice, no bigger than a wren's, only far sweeter, came out of the purse, which so frightened the child that she nearly dropped it.

'Hide me quickly in your pocket,' it said. 'They are coming out on the bar to look for this purse, but please don't let them find it.'

Gerna was too terrified to do other than she was asked, and lifting the skirt of her tinker-blue frock, she dropped the mottled purse into the depths of an unbleached pocket tied under her frock.

She had scarcely done so when she saw a tiny kiskey [3] of a man come out of Piskey Goog, followed by a score of others much like himself.

[Footnote 3: Brown, withered like a twig.]

They all had on three-cornered hats and knee-breeches, their tiny sticks of legs were encased in black stockings, and on their feet they wore low-heeled buckled shoes.

Apparently they did not see Gerna, who was standing on the edge of the pool with her pinafore half-full of brown Piskey-purses.

Their little faces, which were not pleasant to look at, for they were brown and withered--much more withered and brown than the Great-Grannie's--were bent on the sand. It was easy to tell, by the way they were turning over every bit of seaweed, that they were searching for something.

As one of the wee Dark Men--it was the first who came out of the goog--turned his face seaward, he caught sight of Gerna standing by the pool.

Instead of his disappearing into the cavern, as Great-Grannie told her the Small People would do when they saw anybody looking at them, he took off his little three-cornered hat and came towards her, and Gerna, poor little maid, was too frightened to run away.

'May I ask what you have got in your pinny' (pinafore), 'which you are holding so tight?' he asked, with what was meant to be a most fascinating smile, but which only terrified her the more.

'Only Piskey-purses, please, little mister,' she gasped, 'which I was a-going to look into when I've got time.'

'What did you hope to find there, eh?'

'Some of the dear little Piskeys' golden money,' answered the child.

'Did you? You are a nice little girl' (she was a giantess compared with him) 'to want the Small People's gold, and I hope one of the purses has some. May I look into them for you and see?'

'Iss, if you like,' cried Gerna; and, sitting down on the sand, she opened wide her pinafore, so that the tiny Brown Man could take them out, which, however, he did not do.

'The Small People never put anything of value into these common brown things,' he said disdainfully, just glancing at the purses in her lap. 'The bags into which we put our golden money are much prettier, and are painted all over with golden rings, with dashes of white, like this,' making tiny strokes with his finger on the sand. 'If you ever find such a purse you will indeed be a lucky little maid--that is, if you take it into Piskey Goog and put it on a shelf of rock there, which is what I want you to do. We value these ring-marked purses more than I can tell you,' he continued, as Gerna did not speak, 'and are greatly troubled when we lose one of them; we have done so now, and shall never be happy any more until we find it.'

'My dear life!' ejaculated the child.

'In return for your kindness, if you find the bag we have lost and bring it to Piskey Goog, we will give you another something like it, full of gold, and you will be quite rich, and be able to buy anything you want.'

'My dear soul and body!' ejaculated Gerna again.

'I mean what I say,' continued the man, looking up into the little maid's open face with a glitter in his twinkling black eyes, which were no bigger than a robin's eyes, and not nearly so soft. 'But I warn you that if you do find this purse, you must not tell anybody of your great find, but bring it straight to Piskey Goog.'

Whilst he was impressing this upon Gerna, who was getting over her fear of the little Brown Man, she remembered the mottled purse in her pocket, and was on the point of telling him, when a great voice roared out over the bay, and, on looking round, she saw a man called Farmer Vivian coming across the bar.

The great voice, or Farmer Vivian himself, she did not know which, so frightened the Brown Piskey Man that he took to his heels, and in less than a minute he and all the other Little Men had vanished into their cavern.

Gerna was on the point of following him thither, for she was almost certain that the mottled purse she had found was the one they had lost, when a great wave broke over the rock where she was standing, and nearly knocked her down, and she had to run away from the cavern to escape another wave.

As she turned to go back to her limpet-picking, she found the limpet rocks were all covered with the incoming tide; her basket, poised high on a breaker and upside down, was fortunately thrown in on the sands at her feet.

'Great-Grannie will be terribly put out,' she told herself as she went home, 'and the poor little ducklings will have to go without supper.'

The ancient dame was even more vexed than Gerna thought she would be, and sent her at once to bed, and Gelert had to sit on the hedge alone to watch the Piskeys dancing; but they never appeared on the headland, for all his watching.

As Gerna was undressing, the pocket under her frock began to twitch and shake as if it had St. Vitus's dance. As she hastened to untie it, the little voice she had heard in the mottled purse before the Wee Men came out of the cavern spoke to her again.

'Please take me out of your pocket; I want so much to talk to you.'

The child, though somewhat afraid, did so, and held the bag carefully in her hand.

'I cannot tell you how thankful I feel that you did not take me to Piskey Goog, as that little Brown Man asked you to do.'

'Did you hear what he said?' asked Gerna, greatly surprised.

'Every word; and I was so afraid you would tell him you had found me. It would have been too dreadful if you had, especially after they dropped me by accident over the cliff, as they did, and haven't been able to find me since.'

'However did you get into this purse?' asked the child.

'Hager, the King of the Spriggans, put me in here and sealed me up, so that I should not get out,' said the little voice.

'Whatever for?'

'Because I wouldn't marry him, and because he was afraid somebody else I loved was going to marry me.'

'He can't be a very nice king,' said Gerna. 'I am glad I didn't take the purse to the cavern, as you are inside. You know, don't you, that the little brown kiskey of a man promised they would give me a bag full of gold if I took this purse to their place. Will they?'

'It all depends,' answered the little voice. 'The Spriggans--all those little Dark Men you saw on the sands were Spriggans--are dreadful storytellers, and they never keep their word unless they are obliged to. If they cannot get this purse without having to pay heavily for it, they will give you what they offered. Do you want to be rich, dear little maid?' it asked anxiously.

'I don't one bit,' returned the child truthfully; 'but my Great-Grannie and my brother Gelert do. If they were to know that the little Brown Man had promised to give me a bag of gold if I take this one to Piskey Goog, Great-Grannie would make me take it. We are very poor--poor as a coot, she says.' As the small voice in the purse was silent: 'If I don't take you to the goog, will you give me some of the dear Little People's golden money?'

'I have no gold to give,' said the voice very sadly. 'And if I had, I would not like to give it you, for it would not bring you real happiness. But if you take me down to the cavern, as the Spriggan suggested, you will break my heart. Hager, [4] who is even crueller than his name, will never let me escape from him any more.'

[Footnote 4: Hager is Celtic-Cornish for cruel, foul, ugly, etc.]

'But I wasn't going to take you to the goog,' said Gerna. 'I should let you out first, of course.'

'It is very kind of you to say so,' said the little voice, with a tremble in it. 'But you would not be able to open this purse, which, by the way, is not a purse at all, but a prison.'

'I guess I could,' cried the child. 'My hands are ever so strong, and if they can get limpets off the rocks, they can open this tiny little thing, I'm sure. I'll open it now, this very minute.'

Her strong young fingers began tugging at the end of the bag, but to her surprise she could not open it.

After working for ten minutes or more, she gave up in despair.

'I told you so,' said the tiny voice sadly. 'Much stronger fingers than yours could not open this prison-bag, and no knife, however sharp, could cut its skin.'

'Why could it not?' asked the little maid.

'Because a spell has been worked upon it,' the wee voice answered.

'I don't know what you mean,' said Gerna.

'When Hager put me here,' explained the voice, 'he was so afraid the dear Little People, and those who loved me, would discover where he had put me, and find out a way to release me, that he made it impossible by an evil spell that anybody--even himself--should be able to set me free for ninety-nine years three hundred and sixty-five days, unless a very poor little girl could be found who had no love of gold in her soul, nor any greed for riches, and who, out of the deep pity of a kind little heart, would be willing to carry me for love's sake, in the dead of night, through a great bog haunted by hobgoblins, over a lonely moor to where a Tolmên [5] stands, and pass me three times through the Tolmên's hole before the sun rises, and then lay me on its top, so that the first ray of the rising sun might smite upon the bag. This will break the spell and set me free.'

 

[Footnote 5: A Tolmên, or Holed Stone, is one of the antiquities of Cornwall, and many superstitions have been connected with it, such as passing weakly children through its hole, in the belief they will get stronger.]

 

'What a terrible lot for a little maid to do!' cried Gerna. 'I don't believe one will ever be found to do all that, however kind she is.'

'That is just what Hager believed,' said the voice sadly. 'And yet I was once hopeful that such a dear little child would be found, or rather would find this purse with its helpless prisoner inside, and take compassion on me. But as the long years dragged on, and no such little maiden came to my help, hope died within me, and I was in utter despair, until you discovered me half hidden under some seaweed, picked me up, and brought me hither. And now hope has begun to revive in my heart again.'

'Have you been in this prison-purse a long time?' asked Gerna, who dimly felt that the poor little prisoner was appealing to her pity.

'A very long time,' sighed the little voice--'one hundred years all but a few days.'

'My goodness gracious!' exclaimed the little Cornish maid in great amazement. 'How terrible old you must be--older even than my Great-Grannie, who is ever so much past ninety.'

'I suppose I am old, as you count age,' said the little voice, in which Gerna detected a laugh.

'Have you really been in this bag ninety-nine years?' she asked, not being able to get over her surprise.

'Yes; and I am grieved to say the hour for my release has almost come. Before the birth of the new moon, which is on Friday next, Hager will take me out, if no child before that time carries me over the bog and moor, and passes me through the Tolmên.'

'Was it only 'cause you wouldn't marry that old Spriggan king you got put into this prison?' asked Gerna.

'Yes, that was the only reason,' answered the little voice. 'I happened to be beautiful, you see, and because of my beauty he stole me away from my own dear little True Love, who was just going to marry me. If it ends, as I fear it will, in his getting me into his power again, I and my True Love will break our hearts.'

'But I shouldn't think anybody would want to marry you now, if you are so old as you say you are,' cried Gerna, with all a child's candour, thinking of her shrivelled, toothless old great-grandmother.

'And yet Hager, in spite of my age, is waiting impatiently for the waning of the moon to marry me,' said the little voice, with another sigh. 'I overheard him talking about it to some of his people, and what grand doings they would have then, and how they would send an invitation to all the dear Little People--my own True Love included--to come to the wedding.'

'What a horrid person he must be!' cried Gerna indignantly. 'Why ever didn't your little True Love come and take you away?'

'He can't, because of the spells Hager worked upon this bag.'

'Haven't you seen your little True Love all those long years?' asked the child.

'Not once. But I thought I heard his voice when the little Brown Man was telling you to bring the ring-marked purse to Piskey Goog.'

'There was nobody on the beach except those little Dark Men searching for this purse and Farmer Vivian,' said Gerna. 'Farmer Vivian is a great big man, and lives up at Pentire Glaze Farm. He is very kind, and he do love all the Little People dearly.'

'How do you know he does?' asked the little voice eagerly.

'My Great-Grannie told me he did, and she do know. This little cottage of ours belongs to him, and he al'ays talks to her about the Wee Folk when she goes up to his house to pay the rent. There! Great-Gran is calling up the stairs to ask if I'm in bed. I shall have to put 'ee back into my big pocket now. I hope you won't mind.'

'Not one bit. The only thing I do mind is being given into Hager's power. You won't take me to Piskey Goog, whatever the little Brown Man offers you, will you, dear?'

'Not unless Great-Grannie finds out I've got you an' makes me,' said the child, putting the purse very carefully into the unbleached pocket. 'I hope she won't go looking into it when she comes up to bed.'

'Can't you hide the pocket somewhere?' asked the little voice anxiously.

'I can put it into the big chest here by the window,' said Gerna, looking around the mean little chamber, which was very bare. 'A storm washed it in on the bar last winter, and Great-Gran don't keep nothing in it but her best clothes.'

'Then put me into the chest,' piped the little voice. 'And please come and take me out to-morrow as soon as you can. It cheers me to hear the voice of a friend, and I believe you are a true friend, you dear little maid!'

The child dropped the pocket into the great sea-chest very quickly, for the ancient dame again called up the stairs to ask if she were in bed, and then came up to see if she were.

Great-Grannie did not get up until quite late the next day, and when she did she sent Gerna to the beach to pick limpets for the ducks, and Gelert to weed the small potato plot at the back of the cottage, a work he hated doing.

When the little girl got to the bay the tide was only half-way down, and it was ever so long before she could get near the limpet rocks. But as soon as the tide let her she began her limpet-picking, and never looked round once.

Her basket was half full when she heard a sharp little voice behind her.

'Have you found the purse I told you of?'

'I haven't looked yet to-day,' said the child, without glancing round. 'I lost all my limpets yesterday through picking up Piskey-purses, an' my Great-Grannie was ever so cross. She sent me to bed without any supper; an' the poor little ducks had to go without their supper too.'

'I am so sorry,' said the little Brown Man, climbing the rock to be on a level with her face; 'but I would not let such a small matter as that prevent me from looking for that purse with its gold ring markings. Your Great-Grannie will never be vexed with you any more when you have found it, and receive another one full of the Small People's gold in exchange.'

'How did you come to lose your purse?' asked the child, anxious to hear what he would say.

'Unfortunately, I took it with me a night or two ago to the cliff above our dwelling-place, where we have our games, and by a terrible misfortune I dropped it over the cliff. I and my relations have been looking for it ever since. I have come here to-day to renew the offer I made yesterday. You would like to be rich, wouldn't you?'

'We are terrible poor!' said the child evasively--'the poorest people in St. Minver parish, Great-Grannie said.'

'Are you really, you poor things?' said the little Brown Man kindly. 'Then, in that case I will double my reward if you find the purse. I will give you two purses full of the Small People's golden money instead of only one. It must, however, be brought to Piskey Goog before the next new moon, and as the present one is in her last quarter, there is not much time to lose, is there?'

'No,' said the child, still going on with her limpet-picking.

'Won't you go and look for it now?' asked the little Brown Man, with a hint of impatience in his voice. 'The tide will be on the flow again soon, and your chance for to-day will be gone.'

'I must fill my basket with limpets first,' said Gerna; 'Grannie raises ducks to sell to the gentry, and we can't afford for them to lose a meal, she says.'

'You are like a limpet yourself; there is no moving you against your will,' cried the little man, scowling, 'and----'

What else he would have said there was no knowing, for Farmer Vivian appeared on the sands at that moment, and shouted across the gray-gold bar, and this caused the little Piskey Man to take to his heels and run into his cavern.

Gerna did not stay on the beach after the wee Brown Man had disappeared--she felt afraid somehow--and she went home with only half a basketful of limpets. This so put out Great-Grannie that she vowed she would send her down to the porth again to find more, if one of her precious ducklings hadn't taken it into its head to have a fit, which so bewildered her that she sent Gelert instead!

What with the sick duckling to attend to, and other little chores the child had to do for the ancient dame, she had not a minute to steal up to the little chamber.

When at last she thought she was free, Gelert rushed into the cottage all excitement.

'What do you think?' he cried, 'the dear little Piskey Men are out on the sands looking for a Piskey-purse. They have lost one, they told me, and whoever finds it and takes it into Piskey Goog shall have a purse full of the Small People's golden money.'

'You don't mean for to say so?' exclaimed the old woman. 'To think of it now! Go along, both of 'ee,' glancing at Gerna, 'an' search for that purse until you do find it.'

'I've searched and searched till I'm tired,' said the boy, 'an' I would have gone on searching if the old sea wasn't tearing in like mad.'

'Oh dear, what a pity!' cried the Great-Grannie. 'We must all go an' look for that purse to-morrow. I wouldn't have us lose our chance of being rich for anything. Now,' turning to Gerna, 'make haste an' get our suppers, for the boy must be as hungry as a hedger after such work.'

When the supper was ready, and as they were eating, Gelert remarked:

'I forgot to tell you, Great-Grannie, that the little Brown Men told me it was noised about that Farmer Vivian is going to sell all his land--this little cottage too--and that we are to be turned out.'

'That is the wishtest [6] news I've heard this longful time,' wailed the old woman. 'There isn't another cottage down here, and all the little houses up to Trebetherick an' Churchtown is more rent than I could ever pay.'

[Footnote 6: Saddest.]

'We shall be able to live in a great big house--the biggest house in the parish--when we've found that purse and got the other with the golden pennies, the little Piskey Man told me,' said the boy. 'The money will come just when we most want it--won't it, Great-Gran dear?'

'It will,' chuckled the ancient dame; 'an' we must give ourselves no rest till we find that purse.'

 

'I feared you had forgotten me,' said the sweet wee voice in the Piskey-bag an hour later, when Gerna had taken it out of the chest.

'I hadn't forgotten you,' said the child a little sadly; 'but I couldn't come before, 'cause----'

'Because what?' asked the little voice anxiously. 'You have not come to give me into the power of the Spriggans, have you?'

'Not now, but I am afraid I shall have to,' said Gerna.

And she then told her how the little Brown Man had come to her again, and how he had doubled his offer if she brought the lost purse to the goog. She also told her all the news Gelert had brought up from the beach, and of Farmer Vivian selling his cottage.

'There isn't a word of truth about his selling your cottage,' said the little voice indignantly. 'He is far too kind to turn an old woman and two little children like you out of your home. It is because he is good that the Spriggans are afraid of him and speak of him so unkindly.'

'But if it should be true,' persisted Gerna, 'will you give me a purseful of golden money if I don't take you to the goog?'

'How quickly you forget, child! I told you but yesterday that I had no gold to give you,' said the little voice. 'Surely you do not love money more than you do kindness and pity? And you are going to commit an unkind deed--for it will be an unkind deed if you sell me for gold. Woe is me!'

'But the purse belongs to the Spriggan King,' said Gerna, as if to excuse herself. 'I shall be only giving him what belongs to him.'

'That is quite true. But I do not belong to him; I belong to my Mammie and Daddy and my own little True Love, whom I shall never, never see again if you take me to Piskey Goog. And I shall be dead to them for ever and ever and ever!'

'Then I won't let those nasty little Dark People have 'ee, whatever they do offer,' cried the child. 'I only wish I could take 'ee over that bog an' moor you told me of to the Tolmên.'

'A wish is father to the deed,' said the little voice somewhat more cheerfully. 'If you really desire to do that act of pity,' it added, after a pause, 'you have not much time to lose, for the moon is on the wane, and there are only three clear days to the birth of the new moon.'

'I wish I wasn't afraid of being out alone in the dark,' said the child, shuddering. 'I am a wisht coward when it is dark. So I'm afraid I shall never be brave enough to take 'ee to the Tolmên, though I want to, dreadful. But I'll never let the Spriggans have 'ee, dear,' she added, greatly distressed, as a groan terrible in its despair came out of the bag. 'Don't 'ee make so wisht a sound. It do make me sad to hear 'ee.'

'I can't help it,' said the wee voice, which was as full of tears as ever a voice could be. 'Not even love can keep me from the Spriggans after the moon is born. All power to resist them will be gone, and they can come into this cottage unseen by human eyes and take me away. They suspect where I am now, and are only afraid I have discovered a child who is not only no lover of money, but who is kind enough to take me to the Tolmên.'

'Whatever will 'ee do!' cried Gerna, tears welling to her eyes. 'I don't believe I shall be happy any more if I know those ghastly little Spriggans have 'ee.'

'I don't believe you would, you dear little maid.'

'I tell 'ee what,' cried the child, making a big resolve: 'I will take---- There! Great-Grannie is coming up the stairs. Good-night till to-morrow.'

The ancient dame was up with the sun the next day, and made Gerna and Gelert get up too, that no time might be lost in looking for the Piskey-purse. She would hardly give them time to eat their breakfast, so greedy was she to have the Small People's golden money.

As she was taking down her sunbonnet, she knocked over a heavy piece of wood, which fell on her big toe, and it hurt her so badly that, much to her vexation, she had to let the children go without her.

The tide was in when they got down to the bay, and so smooth and still was it that 'it couldn't wash up anything, even if it wanted to,' said Gelert crossly.

He turned over all the seaweed at high-water mark, but saw nothing except sea-fleas.

When the tide was far enough down, Gerna went all over the beach with her brother; but as she had already found the lost purse, she picked up shells instead.

'I don't b'lieve you want to find the Piskey-purse, Gerna Carnsew,' growled Gelert, when he saw what she was doing. 'I don't b'lieve you want to have the Small People's golden pieces one little bit.'

'I didn't say I did,' cried Gerna, which made the boy so angry that he went off to the other side of the bar to look for the purse alone.

Gerna was stooping to pick up a shell, of which there were many on the sands to-day, when the little Brown Man came up to her, doffed his three-cornered hat, and grinned into her face.

'Have you found our lost purse yet?' he asked. 'The time for finding it is up the day after to-morrow.'

'Whatever do you mean, little mister?'

'What I say, and that your chance of being wealthy will be gone. Are you looking for the precious bag now?'

'My Great-Grannie sent me and Gelert down here to look for it,' said the child evasively. 'Gelert is over there looking,' again sending her glance across the bar, which was particularly beautiful to-day with reflected clouds.

'I know he is, and he seems much more anxious to find the purse than you are. Perhaps our offer, great as it was, is not sufficiently tempting. If it isn't'--looking keenly into the child's sweet face--'we will treble our reward. Three purses full of the Wee Folks' golden money will we give you if you bring us the bag. It will be more than enough to buy all the land in your parish, including your own dear little cottage, should it ever be sold.'

'Will it really?' cried Gerna, deeply impressed, and for the first time in her innocent young life the desire to be rich came into her unselfish little soul.

'Yes; and you will be a very great lady indeed,' said the small Dark Man, with an evil laugh, seeing he had gained a point--'greater even than Lady Sandys, who lives up at St. Minver Churchtown.'

He might have said many more things to entice the poor little maid's envy; but just then a great voice above their heads startled them, and, looking up, Gerna saw Farmer Vivian on the top of Tristram, a hill facing Pentire Glaze.

The Spriggan took to his heels at once, and there was a helter-skelter amongst all the Little Men, whom she had not seen on the sands until then, and one and all rushed into Piskey Goog, as if a regiment of soldiers were after them.

Gelert continued his search for the purse until the sea flowed in again, and Gerna sat on a rock picturing to herself what the Churchtown folk would say to her when she bought all the land in the parish, and became a person of even greater importance than Lady Sandys. As she was enjoying all this wealth in anticipation, it suddenly rushed upon her at what price she would buy her riches--the happiness of a poor little helpless thing in a Spriggan's prison--and she felt so ashamed of herself that the desire for gold died within her, and such pity for her little friend came in its place that she was now quite determined to take the bag over the bog country to the moor where the Tolmên was, cost her what it might.

When the children came home, Great-Grannie was all eagerness to know if the purse were found, and when Gelert told her it was not, and that Gerna had been looking for shells instead of the lost Piskey-purse, her anger knew no bounds, and she smacked the poor little maid, and once more sent her supperless to bed.

'I wish all the Spriggans' gold would be swallowed up in the sea,' said poor Gerna, as she went up to the little bed-chamber. 'Great-Grannie was never vexed with me before that Dinky Man wanted to make me rich with his golden pieces. 'Tis better to be poor an' contented, I reckon, than to be rich and be miserable.'

The ancient dame, finding her toe getting worse, followed her small great-granddaughter upstairs, and as she did not go down again that night, Gerna had no chance of speaking to the little prisoner. Nor had she the next morning, for she was kept so busy, what with bathing Great-Grannie's injured toe, and all the other odds and ends of things she had to do before going down to the bay, that she had not a minute to herself until bedtime.

The old woman, in her desire for gold, no longer considered the voracious appetites of her numerous ducks, and told the children that, as the finding of that lost purse was of such great importance, the limpet-picking must stand over until the purse was found.

Gelert was delighted to be relieved of an uncongenial task, and went off to search for the purse with a light heart; but Gerna, not wanting to go to the beach at all, begged to stay at home, which made Great-Grannie so cross that she said she was not to come back until she had found it.

Either the clock had gone wrong or the old woman's brain, for it was much later than she thought, and when the children got down to the bay the sea was rushing up the sands at such a terrible speed that the time for searching was very short. It had surrounded the rocks where the limpets clung when they got there, and was almost up to Piskey Goog.

Gelert went to the other side of the bay at once, leaving Pentire side to Gerna. But as the little maid knew there was no other purse to find than the one she had found, she began again to pick up shells. There were very lovely shells on the sands to-day, all the colours of the rainbow--in fact, they looked as they lay in the eye of the sun as if they had fallen from the sky. As the child was stooping to pick them up, out of the cavern came a troop of little Brown Men, with the Wee Man who had always spoken to her at the head.

He made at once for the child.

'Picking up shells again!' he cried, 'and all those purses of gold awaiting you there in the goog! Why, I am beginning to think you do not want to be rich. Do you?'

'I did issterday, [7] but I don't one little bit now,' said the child, turning her frank gaze full upon the little Dark Man's upturned face.

[Footnote 7: Yesterday.]

'What!' he cried, looking as black as a thundercloud, 'you don't mean to tell me that you are going to miss the great chance of having three purses full of the Wee Folks' golden money?'

'Iss, I do,' said the little maid. 'I don't want even one piece of your old golden money, little Mister Spriggan!'

If the cliff towering above them had tumbled down upon him the little Dark Man could not have looked more crushed. Then he scowled all over his face, shook his scrap of a fist at her, and yelled:

'I know now that you found the purse we lost, and that the little voice within it--it is nothing more than a voice, remember--has bewitched you as it has others, and that it does not want you to be rich, happy, and great as we do. You will be sorry all your days you have lost your opportunity to be rich, and you will find you cannot even keep the thing which you have found.'

There was a heavy ground sea that day, and the waves were so huge that Gerna had to go farther up the beach out of their reach, and when she turned to see what the Dinky Men were doing, she saw them all slinking into Piskey Goog like whipped dogs.

Great-Grannie was in no better temper than she had been the previous day at her great-grand-children's failure; and when she asked if Gerna had been looking for the purse, and Gelert said 'No,' she was so vexed and cross, she not only thumped the child, but sent her upstairs to stay the rest of the day.

The poor little maid felt so miserable that she did not take out the purse and talk to the prisoner for ever so long; but when she did she told her all she had said to the wee Dark Man.

'Did you really say all that to his face--refuse his gold and call him a Spriggan?' cried the little voice in amazement.

'I did,' said Gerna; 'an' he did look terrible, sure 'nough.'

'I don't wonder! I am sure now you are brave enough to take me through the bog and over the moor to the Tolmên. Will you, dear little maid?'

'I want to, if I can,' said the child. 'But I don't know the way to the Tolmên. There is no Tolmên anywhere near here that I know of.'

'There is one, though nobody seems to know of it, away towards the sunrising, near where a great Tor rises up against the sky,' said the little voice quite cheerfully. 'I do not know the way to it myself, but there is a pair of Shoes which do, and they can take any person on whose feet they are over the worst bog that ever was.'

'What wonderful shoes!' cried Gerna. 'Where are they?'

'Farmer Vivian has them,' said the little prisoner, with something in her voice Gerna did not understand. 'They were given him by one of the Small People. The next time you go down to the beach and see him there, ask him for these shoes, and if they fit you I shall know for certain that you are the little maid who can save me.'

'Hush!' whispered Gerna. 'Great-Gran is clopping up the stairs, an' I must pop into bed afore she comes.'

'Take me into bed with you,' whispered back the little voice, 'and hide me in the folds of your bed-gown.'

When Gerna was sound asleep, the ancient dame began to look into every corner of the little chamber, as if she, too, were searching for something. She turned out all the things, even the child's pockets, took everything out of the great sea-chest, muttering to herself as she did so; and then she went to the bed where Gerna slept, and turned her over on her side, and felt under the clothes and the pillow.

'I was wrong; she ent a-got the purse,' she said aloud to herself, 'an' I thought she had. Aw, dear! I'm afraid we shall never have that bag an' the Small People's money.'

And then she undressed and got into bed.

But the old woman could not sleep a wink that night, and only dozed off when Gerna awoke.

The child had only time to drop her little friend into the chest before Great-Grannie was wide awake again and getting up to dress.

At the flow of the tide the children were again hurried off to the beach to search for the lost Piskey-purse, the old dame loudly lamenting that she was not able to go with them, owing to the hurt to her toe.

The tide was in, and whilst they waited for it to go down, Farmer Vivian came across the bar, and Gelert, seeing him coming towards them, made off.

'How is it you haven't been picking limpets lately?' asked the farmer, with a kindly smile, looking down at Gerna.

'Great-Grannie ordered us to look for a Piskey-purse instead,' said the little maid dolefully.

Then she remembered what the little voice had asked her to do if she saw Farmer Vivian.

'Yes,' he said, in answer to her question, 'I have such a pair of Shoes, and, odd to say, I have them in my pocket. What do you want them for?'

'To see if they will fit me, please, sir. May I have them now and try them on?'

'You may, certainly; but I am afraid they are far too small even for your little feet.'

He dipped his hand into his coat-pocket, and, taking out a tiny pair of moss-coloured Shoes, he gave them to the child.

'Why, they are dolly's shoes!' she cried; 'only big enough for the Small People's feet. I am terribly disappointed.'

'Are you? Well, never mind; just see if they will fit you.'

'I will, just for fun,' laughed Gerna; and, putting one of them to her bare foot, to her unspeakable amazement it began to stretch, and in a minute it was on!

'Well, I never!' cried Farmer Vivian, and his great voice was so full of delight that it roared out all over the bar, even louder than Giant Tregeagle, whose roar of rage is still sometimes heard on St. Minver sandhills. 'The Shoe has stretching powers, it seems. Try to get on its fellow.'

Gerna quickly did so, and was as proud as a hen with a brood of chicks as she stared at her feet.

'You will have to keep them now,' said the farmer, lowering his big voice to such gentleness and sweetness that she would have thought it was her own little friend at home in the sea-chest if she had not known it wasn't. 'A dear little lady gave them to me to keep until I should find somebody they would fit, and I have waited a very long time for that somebody. With the Shoes she gave me a Lantern, which she said must be given with the Shoes;' and once more diving into his pocket, he fished out the tiniest lantern Gerna had ever seen. 'Just big enough,' he said, 'to light home a benighted dumbledory' (bumblebee); and he went away laughing towards the cliffs.

Gerna kept on the Shoes till the tide was down to Piskey Goog, when she took them off and put them into her underskirt pocket with the dinky Lantern.

The sands were strewn with Piskey-purses to-day instead of shells, and as it gave her something to do, she picked up as many as she could see; and when the tide had gone down to Pentire Hawn, she went near there and sat on a rock.

So occupied was she with looking into the purses, and asking herself whether she ever could take the poor little imprisoned fairy across the bog country that night--for she knew it would have to be to-night if she took her at all--that she forgot all about the tide, which by this time had reached its lowest ebb, and was flowing in again.

The sea grew rough as it turned, and began to rush up the great beach and beat on the outer rocks with a terrible roar.

When Gerna had glanced into the last of her purses she looked about her, and found to her consternation that the sea was a long way up the bar, and the rock on which she sat was almost surrounded by angry water.

It was now quite impossible for her to get to the sands, and the only place not cut off by the sea was a tiny cove--a mere gash in the cliff midway between the two hawns, Pentire and Pentire Glaze. As it was, it was her only place of safety--at least, for a time--and she went to it at once, and sat down, white and frightened, under the cliff that towered darkly above her.

After a few minutes she stood up and shouted with all her might for someone to come to her help, but her shouts were drowned in the loud thunder of the breakers. She shouted until she was hoarse--for she did not want to be drowned, poor child, and she knew there was no way out of the cove except by the cliff, which it was quite impossible for her to climb--and then she again sat down and wept bitterly.

As she was crying and sobbing, a strange noise above her made her look up, and there in a tiny hole in the face of the cliff a few feet above her head she saw the grinning face of a little Dark Man!

'You are caught in a trap,' he said, with a cough, 'and you will surely be drowned if we do not come to your help.'

'Will you help me, dear little Mister Spriggan?' cried Gerna, hope dawning in her eyes.

'Yes, if you will bring back to our goog, when the sea goes out, that precious purse which we know you have found.'

'I cannot do that, 'cause I promised I wouldn't, whatever happened,' said the child, greatly distressed.

'Oh, then in that case we will leave you to the mercy of the sea! Of course, it will drown you, and a good thing too, for it will prevent your doing what the voice asked you to do. We shall have the bag and it in our hands again to-morrow, whilst you will make a dainty dish for the fishes' supper!' and the stone clicked and the ugly little face disappeared.

'Hello! What are you doing down there, and the waves breaking all around you?' cried a voice far up the cliff, and, turning her tearful gaze upwards, Gerna saw kind Farmer Vivian--who looked almost as small as one of the Wee Folk from that great height--looking down upon her. 'A very good thing I gave you those dinky Shoes this morning. Put them on quickly. There is not a moment to lose. In the cliff to your right you will find some steps cut out of the rock. They are very small indeed, but quite large enough for those little green Shoes to climb up on.'

Gerna hastened to obey, and she saw on the face of the cliff a tiny winding stairway. She put her feet on the first stair, and found herself going up and up without fear, and she was soon at the top of the cliff, standing by Farmer Vivian's side.

'There you are, as right as the Small People's change!' said he, with a smile in his eyes, which were as blue as the sea itself, and oh! so gentle and kind. 'Don't take off your Shoes until you have passed all the Piskey Rings, or Spriggan Traps, or whatever they are,' he said, as Gerna turned her face towards her cottage. 'Pentire is full of them to-day--all made since last night, and all the colour of your dear little Shoes.'

'You can't step anywhere without putting your feet on a Ring,' Gerna said to herself, as she hurried home over the great headland. On every Ring she stepped she felt she must stop to dance like a Piskey. And she was not sure, but she thought she saw little dark faces grinning horribly at her from every Ring she passed over.

Great-Grannie was much upset when she heard what dangers her little great-granddaughter had been exposed to, for Gelert had come home with the news a few minutes before that she was drowned, as he could not see her anywhere!

The fright the old woman received showed her how wrong it was to covet the Small People's money, and she gave Gerna a basinful of hot bread-and-milk, and told her she could go to bed if she liked.

The child was worn out with all she had gone through, and went upstairs quite early, as she wanted to rest before taking the little prisoner to the Tolmên that night.

She did not undress before she had taken the ring-marked purse out of the chest once more, and told her wee friend of all that had happened and what she had gone through.

'I don't believe I should ever have got up that great cliff but for those dinky Shoes,' she added when she had told all; 'nor over Pentire Glaze.'

'I am certain you wouldn't,' said the wee voice. 'The Spriggans were all about the cliffs and headland, but they were powerless to hinder your going with those Shoes on your feet. You won't be afraid to take me over the bog now, will you, dear little maid?'

'No, that I shan't,' said Gerna; 'an' I'm a-going to do it to-night. But I must have a bit of sleep first. I hope I shall wake in time, an' that Great-Grannie won't miss me till I get back.'

'She won't miss you,' assured the little voice. 'The excitement she has suffered lately has exhausted her, and she will sleep until you are back in your own little bed again. Take me into bed with you, and put me close under your chin, and when the time is up for us to start I will tickle until I wake you.'

The child was soon in a deep slumber, and it seemed to her she had only just fallen asleep when she felt something tickling her neck.

'Dress quickly!' cried the little voice close to her ear. 'But before you do, let me impress on you once more that I can never repay you for your kindness, and that all you do for me you must do out of the purest pity and love, and for nothing else. So if you have any hankering after the Little People's gold, your journey is sure to end in failure. For the Spriggans, in spite of the Shoes and the Lantern Farmer Vivian gave you, will prevent your reaching the Tolmên, and will make you give me back into their hands, and thrust upon you the golden pieces they have so often offered you, but which will only bring you trouble.'

'I don't want anything for taking you to the place where you are to be set free,' said Gerna simply. 'I am doing it 'cause I love you, an' 'cause I am terribly sorry for you and your little True Love, an' I don't want that wicked Hager to make you marry him.'

'Then let us make haste and go,' said the little voice, trembling with gladness. 'Put the Shoes on your feet before you leave the chamber, and the Lantern and me into the bosom of your frock.'

There was no moon, and Gerna had to dress in the dark. It was soon done, and, with the moss-green Shoes on her feet, the ring-printed bag and the wee Lantern close to her heart, she went down the stairs and out into the night.

There was not a sound to be heard save a weird cry somewhere away on Pentire, which the little voice coming up from the bosom of her frock said was Hager howling because his subjects were telling him that he must now give up all hope of ever taking to wife his poor little prisoner. 'You must not be afraid of whatever sounds you hear,' continued the little voice.

'Are we going the right way?' asked Gerna. For the Shoes were taking them up a rough, steep road behind their cottage.

'Yes, quite right; the Shoes know the way--trust them for that! Don't worry about anything; only hold me as close as you can to your warm little heart. We shall have to warm each other when we come to the bog country. It is bitterly cold there.'

On and on Gerna went with her precious burden, through long lanes, up and down steep hills, over sandy commons and furze-brakes, and so fast that she could not have spoken even if she wanted to!

At last she drew near the bog lands, lying flat between two high Tors.

'It's terribly cold here,' she said, when the Shoes stuck in the ground for a minute, 'and ever so dark, except where there are little lights shining out of the dark like cats' eyes!' and she began to shiver with cold and fear.

'Don't be afraid, dear child,' said the sweet little voice, in which there was no sadness now. 'The hobgoblins are out in the bog, and as they are near relations of the Spriggans, they are hand in glove with them. The Spriggans feared you would pass over this bog to-night, and have set their relations to watch. But they are not so clever as they thought themselves. They know you have the Shoes, but they don't dream you possess that wee Lantern too.'

'Is the Lantern any good?' asked Gerna in surprise. 'Farmer Vivian said it was only big enough to light home a benighted dumbledory.'

'It was a joke about the dumbledory,' laughed the little voice. 'It can do much more than that. It has the power of making you invisible, and its light will, if you hold it on the little finger, shine in on your heart and keep it warm.'

'What wonderful things there are nowadays!' exclaimed the child.

'Aren't there?' cried the little voice, with another happy laugh. 'The Lantern will not only give warmth if so held, and cloak you from the hobgoblins and wicked Spriggans, but will also give you courage, which you will need crossing this bog country.'

It was well Gerna was told all this before the Shoes began to take her over that dreadful bog. The mists rose thick and cold as she advanced, and crept over her with such chilling power that she felt as cold as a conkerbell, [8] she told herself. And the countless little lights, or eyes, or whatever they were, were horrid, and seemed to glaze [9] at her whichever way she looked. There were groans and sighs, too, which filled her with a nameless terror, and but for the cheerful little voice, which every now and again told her not to be afraid, and the white, clear shining of the tiny Lantern, she would have turned back.

[Footnote 8: Icicle. To stare hard.]

By the time the bog was crossed, which she afterwards learned was by a narrow causeway, just wide enough for two small feet to walk on, she was chill to the very bone and terribly tired.

It was well on towards the sunrising by this time, and there was yet that wild moor to cross before she reached the Tolmên, and she was afraid she would never be able to reach it in time.

She was growing more and more weary every minute, and the Shoes, although they could guide and take her over the most difficult places, did not seem to be able to give her strength.

'Do you think we shall get to the Tolmên before the sun gets up?' asked the little voice anxiously.

'I don't know,' Gerna answered in a low, weary voice. 'The moon is up, I think--all there is left of it, I mean--and I can see another light shining somewhere away in the east.'

'It must be later than I thought,' said the wee voice, and the little creature within the bag began to tremble with apprehension. 'Do make haste, dear little maid! It would be quite too dreadful to be too late after all you have done to free me from Hager's power.'

'I am awfully tired,' was the child's answer. 'If I could only rest a few minutes I could go faster afterwards. Shall I? I am ready to drop.'

'You must not sit down until you have reached the Tolmên. I am certain the Spriggans are following in our wake. They are throwing their Thunder-axes [9] over every moving thing they can see, and over every motionless thing they can touch, and if they should happen to knock against you and throw one over you, they have power to keep you helpless to move until the sun has risen.'

[Footnote 9: A stone or metal instrument found in tin-mines, and in barrows of the ancient Celts.]

'Why didn't they do that when I was in danger of being drowned?' asked Gerna.

'The Thunder-axes are no good except just before the rising of the sun, or the Spriggans would not be following us to use them now. You won't give up now, whatever it costs, will you, dear?'

'Not if I can help it,' said the child wearily.

She kept going on until she reached higher ground, where she saw standing out in the semi-darkness of the early morning a great Tolmên on the brow of the moor, and over it hanging like a hunter's horn the silver curve of the old moon.

A cry of gladness broke from Gerna's lips as she saw it, which must have made all the bad little fairies, if any were about, slink away in dismay, and the sight so cheered her that her weariness left her for a time, and she sped on like a hare until she dropped down by the big stone's side.

'We have reached the Tolmên, have we not?' asked the little voice, all a-tremble with joy.

'Yes,' panted the child; 'and the sun isn't up. I am awful glad--aren't you?'

'More glad than I dare say, dear little maid. But I am not out of prison yet. Is there any hint of the sunrise?'

'There is a pinky light over one of the Tors,' answered Gerna.

'Ah! then you must pass me through the Tolmên's hole at once. Three times, remember,' as Gerna put her hand in the bosom of her frock and drew out the tiny bag.

The brambles had grown up around the gray stone's hole, and almost blocked the way to it, and it was minutes before she could tear them aside and get into the opening; but she did so at last, and passed the prison-bag three times through the hole as she was bidden. As she did so, the sky in the east grew brighter and brighter, and she knew from that sign that the sun was about to rise.

'Now place the prison and me, its prisoner, on the top of the Tolmên,' cried the little voice--'longways to the east it must lie; and when you have done that, stand by the Holed Stone very quietly, then wait and see what will happen.'

Gerna did as she was told, and stood on a high bank of fragrant thyme at the head of the hoary old granite stone, with its great hole, her face towards the sunrising.

She herself was very quiet, as was also the little prisoner, but all the great wild moor was now full of music. The linnets were already twittering in the bushes, and many larks were high in the sky, singing to greet another dawn. As they sang, the east grew more and more beautiful, and behind the great Tors the sky was a wonderful rose on a background of delicate gold.

Gerna thought the sun would never show himself, and she was too tired to appreciate all the wonder of the sunrise, though she was glad enough to hear the birds singing, for it made her feel she was not so very far from home, after all.

At last the sun, red-gold and very large, wheeled up behind the shoulder of a Tor and flung out a great lance of flame across the moorland, which smote the small ring-marked purse lying on the Tolmên.

Gerna, whose gaze was now riveted on the purse, saw its ends open like a gasping fish, and then shrivel up, and in its black ashes sat the most beautiful little creature it was possible to conceive. She was so lovely and so dainty that the child could only stare at her open-mouthed with wonder and amazement.

'How can I ever thank you, dear little Gerna, for all you have done for me!' said the radiant creature, looking up into the child's amazed eyes. 'All the Wee Folks' treasures will not be deemed reward enough for the child who preferred to be compassionate than to be made rich with fairies' gold. I should not be sitting here free from that,' pointing to the shrivelled-up blackness which was once a Spriggan's prison, 'but for you, dear. Are you not glad you are the means of setting me free and bringing me unspeakable happiness?'

'Iss,' said Gerna, hardly knowing what she was saying, her eyes still drinking in the beauty of the little fairy. 'Aw!' she exclaimed, 'you are a dear little lovely, sure 'nough--better than all the Small People's golden pieces. You don't look a bit old, nuther.'

'You thought I should look as old as your Great-Grannie, didn't you?' laughed the happy little creature. 'The Small People show their age by looking younger and fairer--at least, the royal fairies do.'

She got on her feet as she spoke, and gazed over the great moor, and as she gazed, her face, which had the delicate pink of a cowry-shell, grew more beautiful, and a tender, happy light crept into her speedwell-blue eyes.

'There is a friend of yours crossing the moor,' she said in her sweet voice, which was more than ever like the note of a bird, only sweeter and clearer.

'Why, 'tis Farmer Vivian!' cried the child. 'However did he get here? I do hope he won't want to have you,' glancing at her lovely little friend anxiously. 'I don't know what I shall do to hide 'ee if he should. I couldn't put beautiful little you in my underskirt pocket or into the bosom of my frock.'

'Why not?' asked the dainty little creature, smiling. 'I lay there close to your heart all this night, and a warmer, truer little heart I shall never rest against. But you need not fear Farmer Vivian on my account. He, of all persons, would not hurt any of the Good Small People for a king's crown, much less me.'

'He is getting smaller!' exclaimed Gerna. 'Why, he is a teeny, tiny Farmer Vivian now! Ah, dear! how queer everything is! Everything is queer an' funny since I picked up that purse with the rings 'pon it an' dear little you inside.'

'Cannot you guess who he is?' asked the little fairy, her lovely wee face more tender than the June sky over them.

'No,' returned the wondering child. 'Who is he?'

'My own little True Love!' answered the fairy, her eyes a blue light. 'We are meeting each other after a century of black years. He was my True Love all the time in the form of big Farmer Vivian! For love of poor little me he kept in the neighbourhood of Piskey Goog all that time.'

It was all so surprising that Gerna told herself she would never be surprised any more whatever happened. And when the two Wee Lovers, separated by cruel Fate for one hundred years, met and greeted each other in lover fashion, all over the great moor broke the sound of pealing bells, so tiny and so silvery and with such music in their tones the like of which Gerna had never in all her life heard before. And where the bells were rung from she never knew, for there were no steeples or towers anywhere that she could see. As the bells' music rang on, and all the little moorland birds sang more entrancingly than before, she saw hundreds and hundreds of the Small People, all more or less beautiful, come out from behind clumps of Bog-myrtle, and banks of thyme, and beds of sweet-scented orchis, [11] all laughing and singing as they came towards the Tolmên, where the dear Little Lady and her True Love were standing hand in hand, smiling and bowing and looking as happy as ever they could look.

[Footnote 11: Gymnadénia conópæa.]

The little prisoner, who was now a prisoner no longer, seemed to be a very great personage indeed, the child thought, judging by the way the Wee Men took off their caps and bowed to her, and the little ladies made their curtseys; and in truth she was a real Princess, the eldest daughter of the King and Queen of the Good Little People, as Gerna was soon to learn.

There was great rejoicing when the Wee Folk heard how their Princess Royal had been set free, and how much Gerna had done towards it. They could not make enough of her, or do enough for her. They kissed her hands, as if she too were a Royal Princess, instead of being only a poor little Cornish peasant girl! They brought her fairy mead--methéglin they called it--in cups so small yet so exquisite ('like Cornish diamonds, only more lovely,' Gerna said), and gave her food to eat from dishes all iris-hued like the shells that she had picked up on the sands in her own bay, only the Small People's dishes were much thinner and more transparent than any shells she had ever seen.

She was never 'treated so handsome before,' she told herself--scores and scores of dear wee creatures to wait on her and to give her more when she wanted!

When she could not eat 'a morsel more,' nor drink another cup of the all-sweet mead, her own Little Lady and her True Love, who had been sitting close to her all this time on a bed of yellow trefoil, rose up and took her through a rock-door behind the Tolmên and down into a most beautiful place--much more beautiful than she could ever have pictured in her wildest dreams.

It was the country where the Good Little People lived, 'Farmer Vivian' told her. She saw so much that she could take in nothing until they came to the King's Palace, which was the most beautiful palace in fairyland. Here she was taken into room after room--each more beautiful than the last--until she came to a place called the 'Room of the Chair,' which was full of soft voices, fragrant smells, and sweet music. This room was open to the blue dome of the sky, and away at the end of it, on a Chair, sat two Wee People with eyes the colour of her dear Little Lady's. They were not different from the other Small People surrounding the Chair, save that they had 'things on their heads,' as Gerna expressed it (which, of course, were crowns), that shone like the blue of the sea when the sun shines on it, and that they looked even more gracious and more gentle and kind than did her own Little Dear.

When the King and Queen of the Good Little People had lovingly welcomed back their long-lost daughter, and complimented their child's betrothed--who was also a very great personage in the Small People's Kingdom--for his constancy and fidelity to their dear daughter, Gerna, in her print sunbonnet and sun-faded tinker-blue frock, was introduced to their gracious Majesties as the dear little Cornish maid who preferred to be kind rather than be made rich with the Small People's gold.

Pages could be filled with what the King and Queen said to the child, who never felt so uncomfortable in her life as when they thanked her and praised her for all she had done.

'I haven't done nothing much--nothing worth a thank'ee, I mean,' she kept saying.

'Thou hast done more than thou wilt ever know,' said his tiny Majesty solemnly, 'and we feel we can never repay thee. We could, of course, reward thee with more gold than the Spriggans offered, but we are glad to know thou would'st not value it if we gave it thee. But as we are anxious to show we are not ungrateful, we will give thee the greatest of all gifts--the eye to see all that is good and beautiful in human hearts, and the power to bring it out, which alone will make thee greatly beloved. We will also teach thee to love the lowly grass as we ourselves love it, and the humble herbs, and all the gentle flowers, which make all the common roadways, moors and downs, so fragrant and beautiful. We will reveal to thee all their charms, virtues, and healing properties, so that Gerna, the maid of Polzeath, may be a blessing to her parish. And, moreover, the Good Small People shall love thee as they have never loved a human being before--not only for the sake of our beloved child, the Princess Royal of all the Good Little People, but because thou art kind and good and could not be induced to do an unkind deed even for a purseful of the Spriggans gold.'

Gerna had but dim recollections of what followed afterwards: she only knew she was led in great state by 'Dinky Farmer Vivian' on the one side, and her Wee Lady on the other, down a long lane of bowing and curtseying Little Grandees, until she came out into gardens ablaze with flowers. She was then taken through parks, where teeny, tiny deer and cows were grazing, on and on until they came to a tiny door in a cliff, when she felt the soft pressure of kisses on her face and heard the sweet wee voice she knew so well whispering in her ear, 'Good-bye, dear little maid, until we meet again--which shall be soon!' and the next moment she found herself back in Great-Grannie's poor little chamber in her own small bed, and Great-Grannie herself telling her to get up and go down to the bay 'to once' to pick limpets for the ducklings, which were nearly quacking the house down for want of their breakfast.

Gerna wondered as she dressed if all that had taken place that night was a dream, and she searched for the ring-marked Piskey-purse to be quite sure it wasn't. As it was nowhere to be found, nor the wee Shoes, nor the dinky Lantern, she came to the conclusion that it must be true.

In passing Piskey Goog on her way back from her limpet-picking, she saw a wee Brown Man with a laugh all over his merry little face, which made it delightful to look at. He took off his cap as polite as could be, and spoke to the child with the greatest respect.

'I am a real Piskey,' he said, introducing himself, 'and Farmer Vivian told me it would interest you to know that the Spriggans who lived in this goog were taken prisoners soon after their captive was set free, and that they were at once taken before the Gorsedd (the Little People's judgment-seat), and were tried and condemned to break iron with wooden hammers in a dark cave until they repent, which I am afraid they never will, for they are past all good feeling, poor things, and will gradually grow smaller and smaller until they turn into emmets, as all evil-minded fairies in the Small People's country do.'

'Aw dear! What a terrible punishment!' exclaimed Gerna.

'I must go back into our cavern,' said the Piskey. 'It was always ours until the Spriggans turned us out about a year ago. They can never turn us out any more now, our King says, thanks to a little Cornish maid, who would rather be good than be rich. We are ordered to play no pranks on the people of this parish for her sake, even if they don't turn their coats or stockings inside out, nor to ride any horses in the happy night-time, except the horses of those who have an inordinate love of money.'

And the Little Man, who was a real Piskey, went off laughing and disappeared into Piskey Goog.

Years passed on. Great-Grannie died, and Gerna grew into womanhood. She was the best-loved person in St. Minver parish, as the King of the Good Little People said she would be. Everybody loved her dearly; they loved her because she saw the good that was in their hearts, and was not slow to tell them of it, and because of her good opinion of them, which although they did not always deserve, they tried their hardest to live up to. They came to her with their heart-wounds as well as the wounds of their bodies, and she, who had the gift of healing with the herbs and flowers of the earth, somehow knew how to salve the sores of the heart too.

Gerna never grew rich, and never wanted to, and as she would not take a penny piece or anything greater, she had always plenty of patients. People came to her from far as well as near, and brought, not only themselves, but their poor suffering animals. If the truth be told, she had a deeper compassion for the dumb beasts, who could not tell out their sorrows, than she had for their masters, which is saying a great deal, and she always applied her most soothing and healing ointments to their bodies.

It was said that Gerna often saw her Little Lady and her True Love, and that the dear Wee Folk flocked to see her when the moon was up; that they were most kind to her, and even brought her herbs and flowers, wet with fairy dew, for her simples, and helped her to make eye-salves and other healing things, which the poor people declared 'made them such a power for good.'

It was also told that the merry little Piskey Men danced on the top of Pentire Glaze cliffs for her special amusement, and that when they knew she was watching them, their laughter rang out clear as bells across the Polzeath beach of grey, gold sand.

[The end]
Enys Tregarthen's short story: Piskey-Purse

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