126 GOLDEN DAYS 



shared my lunch one sunny day. As we 



together sat and munched upon the 



river-bank I learned all the dire doings of 



the poulpiquets, even to the one and only 



rune which you must use if you would 



sleep peacefully o' nights. " From all 



ghoulies and ghosties and goggle-eyed 



beasties and things that go bump in the 



night, good Saints preserve us." Ah no I 



there is another way, certain, if less devout. 



You place with care a bowl of millet 



adjacent to your bed, then, should the 



fairies venture in the dark, they'll tip the 



bowl and spill the seeds of millet; all 



will be well. For 'tis the nature of the 



poulpiquets to pick up all they spill. 



Thus grain by grain they will be occupied 



during the hours of darkness. With the 



first gi'ey of dawn they'll scamper off. 



As they slip out you'll only hear the 



creaking of the door ; should it be closed 



too quick, perhaps one squeak. 



Then there was the widow Chouan. Her 

 age was eighty-two. She called us bon- 

 ami, Jean Pierre and me. She told us 

 wondrous tales as, after long fishing days, 

 we sat before the peats and warmed our- 



I 



