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.