‘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.’