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.
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]
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.
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.'
'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 Tolmen [5] stands, and pass me three
times through the Tolmen'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.'
'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 Tolmen.'
'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.'
'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 Tolmen.'
'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 Tolmen,
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 Tolmen.'
'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 Tolmen 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.
'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 Tolmen. Will you, dear little maid?'
'I want to, if I can,' said the child. 'But I don't know the way to
the Tolmen. There is no Tolmen 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 Tolmen 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 Tolmen, 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.
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 Tolmen, 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 Tolmen 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 Tolmen. I am
certain the Spriggans are following in our wake. They are throwing
their Thunder-axes [10] 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.'
'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 Tolmen
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 Tolmen, 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 Tolmen'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 Tolmen,'
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 Tolmen.
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 Tolmen, 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.
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--metheglin 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 Tolmen 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.