The loss of the groceries caused the first lamentation. Mary had a clear recollection of buying them, or at least she remembered paying for them, but beyond that memory did nothing for her. She had no impression of walking about the streets with her arms full of packages; they were not in her pocket, nor had they ever been in Peter's; she could not have left them in the shop; she was ready to swear she had not dropped them. The only possible conclusion was that the pixies had stolen them. Peter the hypocrite grunted at that. Although he offered sacrifice continually to the pixies that dwelt in Grandfather's bosom, he declared there were no such things. School-master had told him they were all dead. Education had in some obscure way shot, trapped, or poisoned the lot. "You'm a gurt vule," was Mary's retort. "Dartmoor be vull o' piskies, allus was, and allus will be. When I was a little maid and went to schule wi' Master, though he never larnt I more than ten fingers and ten toes be twenty, though I allus remembered it, for Master had a brave way of larning young volks--What was I telling, Peter? Aw ees, I mind now. 'Twas when I went to schule wi' Ann Middleweek, her picked up a pisky oven and broke 'en all to bits, 'cause her said the piskies were proper little brutes, and her was beat cruel that night wi' brimmles and vuzzy-bushes 'cause her'd broke the oven, and her was green and blue next day. 'Twas the piskies stole my tea and sugar, sure 'nuff. If I'd ha' spat on 'em, and marked 'em proper wi' a cross betwixt two hearts, they'd ha' been here now." Mary worried so much over her lost groceries that she felt quite ill. As Peter also became apprehensive of the state of his health every time that he looked at the bottle of pills, they decided to take a few. Then Peter went out into the garden to sow the flower-seeds, while Mary tramped over the moor to search for her missing goose.