’Tis Hallowe’en Night, Teddy, my boy. Don’t go out on the moor, or near the Gump, for the Piskeys and the Spriggans are abroad, waiting to mislead straying mortals. Many are the men and women that the Little People have whisked away on Hallowe’en Night; and the poor mortals have never been heard of since.
Sit down, Teddy, my boy, crack these nuts, and eat these red apples; and I’ll tell you how Peeping Kate was Piskey-led.
I have heard the old folks say how long ago—maybe a hundred years or so—the Squire of Pendeen had a housekeeper, an elderly dame, called Kate Tregeer.
Well, one Hallowe’en Night, some spices and other small things were wanted for the feasten-tide, and Kate would not trust any one to go for them except herself. So she put on her red coat and high steeple-crowned hat, and walked to Penzance. She bought the goods and started for home.
It was a bright moonlight night, and though no wind was blowing, the leaves of the trees were murmuring with a hollow sound. And Kate could hear strange rustlings in the bushes by the side of the road.
She had walked a very long time, and her basket was so heavy that she began to feel tired. Her legs bent under her and she could scarcely stand up. Just then she beheld, a little in front of her, a man on horseback. And she could tell by the proud way he sat that he was a gentleman-born.
She was very glad to see him, and as he was going slowly, she soon overtook him; and when she came up, his horse stood stock-still.
“My dear Master,” she said, “how glad I am to see you. Don’t you know me? I’m Kate Tregeer of Pendeen; and I can’t tell you how hard I’ve worked all day.”
Then she explained to him how she had walked to Penzance, and was now so tired that she could not stand up. But the gentleman made no reply.
“My dear Master,” said she, “I’m footsore and leg-weary. I’ve got as far as here, you see, but I can get no farther. Do have pity on a poor unfortunate woman, and take her behind you. I can ride well enough on your horse’s back without a saddle or pillion.”