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.
[1] Tiny.
[2] Spriggan, a low kind of fairy.
[3] Brown, withered like a twig.