In our great-great-grandmothers' days people very seldom went away
visiting, and when little Nannie Sando received an invitation from
her Aunt Betsy--great-aunt really--who lived quite twenty miles from
her home on a lonely moor, near Liskard, there was great excitement
in Nannie's home.
Nannie's father did not like the thought of her going away so far from
home, and her mother did not like it either, but she said Aunt Betsy
was well-to-do, and had a stockingful of gold hidden away somewhere;
it would not do for them to offend her by refusing to let the child
go. So the invitation was accepted, and Nannie was sent off by coach,
and met by her aunt in a donkey-cart in Horn Lane, at Liskard, where
the coach put up; and that same evening she reached the little house
on the moor.
It was quite a nice little house, with two rooms up and two down,
and a large garden behind, sheltered by granite boulders fantastically
piled one on top of the other. In front of the house were the moors,
which, at the time Nannie came to stay with her aunt, were gorgeous
with the bloom of heather and other flowers.
Nice as the house was, and beautiful as the moors were, with their
background of Kilmar and other Cornish tors, it was a lonely spot
for a child to come and stay at, with only an elderly woman for
company. But, then, there was the charm of novelty, and there were
delights in the shape of her aunt's donkey and cow, and a big black
tom-cat called Tinker, to say nothing of the far-stretching moors,
which were so beautiful to look at and run wild on.
When Nannie was leaving to go and stay with Aunt Betsy, her mother,
with a view to possessing some of the old lady's golden hoard some
day, told her little daughter to be very attentive to her aunt. 'Get
up when she does,' she said, 'and help her to do her work, and make
yourself very useful;' and the child said she would.
Nannie, when she was going to bed on the evening of her arrival,
remembered her mother's injunction, and said to her aunt:
'Please call me when you get up; I want to help you to clean up
the houseplace.'
But the old woman did not call her grand-niece, and let her stay in
bed till breakfast-time; and when the child came down she found all
the work done, and everything clean and shining.
'You never called me, Aunt Betsy,' said Nannie reproachfully. 'Mother
did so want me to help you.'
'Did she?' cried the old woman sharply. 'If your mother told you to
help me, she had a motive for it. I know your mother's little ways!'
'She said you were getting up in years,' said Nannie innocently,
'and that the young should spare the old as much as they could.'
'The dear little Brown Piskeys spare my old legs,' said the old woman,
looking at the child. 'They come in and do my work before the world
gets up.'
'The Piskeys!' cried the child. 'Who are the Piskeys? I never heard
of them before.'
'You must be a very ignorant little girl not to have heard tell of
the Piskeys,' cried Aunt Betsy, lifting her hands in surprise. 'They
are dear Little People who take strange likes and dislikes to human
beings. If they happen to like people very much, they come into their
house and do their work for them. They have taken quite a fancy to me,
and come into my house every night and clean up the houseplace, polish
the candlesticks till they shine like gold, scour the pots and pans,
and wash and clean everything that wants cleaning.'
'How very kind of them!' said Nannie. 'They must be dear Little
People. I do wish I could see them doing your work, Aunt Betsy. It
would be something to tell father and mother when I go home.'
'I don't expect you will have the good fortune to see the Piskeys,'
said the old woman. 'They are little invisible Men and Women, and
nobody ever sees them unless they happen to be Piskey-eyed. As you
have never heard about these dear Wee Folk till now, it is quite
certain you have not the gift.'
'Are you Piskey-eyed, Aunt Betsy?' asked Nannie eagerly.
Her aunt did not answer, and told her little grand-niece to sit up
at table and eat her breakfast.
The child was too full of the Little People to eat much breakfast,
and the more she thought about them, the more anxious she became to
see those dear Wee Folk, who were so very, very kind to her Aunt Betsy.
The next morning Nannie got up ever so early, with the hope of
seeing the Piskeys, but, early as it was, Aunt Betsy was down before
her. The work was all done, and the table laid for breakfast, as on
the previous day.
'The Piskeys came and did it long before I was up,' remarked her aunt,
not noticing the child's face of disappointment, glancing round the
big kitchen, with its stone-flagged floor, just washed, and looking
as blue as the tors, and up at the dresser, with its china looking
as if it had been washed in sunshine, it was so sparkling; and as
for the tall brass candlesticks on the high mantelpiece, they were
dazzling in their brightness.
'It isn't fair that the Little People should come in and do all your
work when I wanted to help,' said Nannie.
'I am used to Piskeys, but not to children,' returned the old
woman. 'If you really want to do something for me, you shall go out
on the moors and pick me a nosegay of wild flowers. It will make the
kitchen look nice, and will complete the work of the Piskeys.'
Nannie was willing, as she had nothing to do, and she put on her
sun-bonnet to go.
'The clover is in blossom,' said her aunt, as the child was going out
at the door, 'and if you happen to find one with four leaves you may
perhaps get Piskey-eyed, and if you also find a Wee's Nest [27] you
will have the good fortune to see all the Little People in Cornwall!'
'A Wee's Nest is a thing that is never found,' said Nannie; 'but
I'll look for a four-leaved clover till I find it. P'raps you found
a four-leaved clover, and that is how you can see the Piskeys,'
looking round at her aunt with a smile.
The old woman was not given to answering questions, and she only said
that four-leaved clovers were not so easy to find as she imagined.
There was an abundance of flowers everywhere on the moors, and Nannie
soon gathered a great big nosegay; but although she looked for a
four-leaved clover, she could not find one.
Her aunt was very pleased with the flowers when she took them to her,
and told her to put them into an earthenware pot, which she did; and
when she had had her dinner, she went on the moors again. Tinker, the
great tom-cat, with whom she had already made friends, followed her.
Nannie stayed out on the moors till it was almost bedtime, searching
for a four-leaved clover, but she searched in vain.
The next morning, the child, hearing her aunt dressing, got up and
dressed too, and, being young and nimble, she was dressed and down
first.
When she got to the kitchen, she heard the clatter of pans and
a tripping to and fro of tiny feet, and little bursts of laughter
came from the big spence at the upper end of the kitchen; but she saw
nothing living, except Tinker, cleaning his face in front of the fire,
and then she heard a patter of small feet going towards the outer
kitchen door, and there was silence.
'You have driven away the Piskeys, you young good-for-nothing!' cried
Aunt Betsy, coming into the kitchen, buttoning the sleeve of her gown
as she came. 'The Little People don't like to be spied on when they
are busy working. You should not have got up so early.'
The old woman seemed as much put out as the Piskeys, and she flew
round the kitchen doing the work the Small People had left undone,
and would not allow Nannie to help at all, not even to lay the cloth
for breakfast.
After breakfast, the child, in order to put her aunt in a better
mood, went out on the moors to get another nosegay of wild flowers,
and she gathered one of every sort she could find.
As she was picking them, Tinker, the cat, who had followed her again
to the moors, put his paw on a clover and mewed; and, fearing a bee
had stung him, she looked to see, and quite close to his paw was a
white four-leaved clover!
'I shall be able to see the Piskeys now!' said Nannie joyfully;
and she and Tinker returned to the house.
Aunt Betsy was out at the back looking for a hen who had stolen her
nest, and she did not come in till dinner-time.
Nannie amused herself meanwhile in arranging the flowers, and when
she had done that to her own satisfaction, she passed the four-leaved
clover over her eyes three times, and looked round the kitchen to see
what she could see. She saw nothing unusual, but she thought she saw
a tiny brown laughing face peeping round the kitchen door.
When Aunt Betsy came in from watching the hen, the child told her
she had found the four-leaved clover, thanks to Tinker.
Her aunt looked at her queerly, and asked her to show the clover
which she had found; and when she saw that it was a four-leaved one,
she only said: 'But you have not yet found the Wee's Nest, and you
must not expect to see the dear little Brown Piskeys unless you do.'
Nannie hoped she would, all the same, and this hope made her
so excited she could not sleep; and when daylight began to creep
into the sky she got up, and without waiting to put on more than
her little petticoat, she crept downstairs, holding the four-leaved
clover in her hand. When she got to the door of the kitchen, leading
into it from the passage, she opened it softly and peeped in; and to
her delight she saw scores and scores of Little People, all as busy
as bees in a field of clover. Some were sweeping the flagged stones,
some were washing the cloam [28] and scouring the pots and pans, some
were polishing the candlesticks with a soft leather, and others were in
the big spence scrubbing the stone benches and doing it all as keenly
[29] as Aunt Betsy herself, which was most wonderful, she thought,
considering how tiny they were. For they were not much bigger than
a miller's thumb. [30]
It was the Little Women Piskeys who were the busiest workers. The
Little Men were less industrious; and when Tinker came into the
kitchen, they stopped their work of cleaning the milk-pans to
pull his great bushy tail and his whiskers. One little scamp of a
Piskey--perhaps unconscious that Nannie was now Piskey-eyed--put his
thumb to his nose, after the manner of naughty little boys, and made
a face at her.
The Piskeys were a merry little lot, and laughed at their work as if
it were all play, which perhaps it was; and one little red-capped
Piskey danced a hornpipe on the table as several of his companions
were about to lay the cloth for Aunt Betsy's breakfast. They stood
on the edge of the table, waiting for him to finish his dance, and
as he did not seem inclined to do this, they caught hold of him by
his legs and tickled him.
The little Piskey who was being tickled, and those who tickled him,
looked so comical that Nannie laughed, which made them stop and
look round.
'There is a little maid watching us from the door!' said one of the
Piskeys in a whisper. 'She is Piskey-eyed, the same as Aunt Betsy,
and she will be spying upon us now, sure as eggs are eggs. I think
we had better forsake this house and go and do work for some other
old woman.' And, to Nannie's distress, they went, and ever after Aunt
Betsy had to do her own work, which made her so cross that she sent
poor Nannie home to her parents at the first opportunity she had; and
when she died, which was not a great while after, she left her little
hoard of gold to strangers. Nannie's father said 'twas a great pity,
but that his wife was to blame, for if she had not urged their little
maid to help the old lady to do her work with the unworthy motive of
having some of her gold, Nannie would never have wanted to see the
Piskeys doing Aunt Betsy's work.