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.