A Pixy in Petticoats by John Trevena

Burrough reached the secret nook early. He proceeded in his methodical manner to make the place tidy, just as he would have tidied a room. He hid the sheep's carcase beneath the bracken; he dusted the granite arm-chair; he cleared away the cigarette-ends and half-burnt matches. Then he made a little causeway of stones along the edge of the bog. This was for Beatrice to walk upon. He could not bear the idea of those little shoes being made muddy.

His next move was to the kitchen, a heap of rocks which no doubt had been once upon a time the abode of some Dartmoor freeholder. The original hearth had disappeared; but four stones made an excellent substitute. In the space thus enclosed Burrough placed some dry gorse, a few sticks, and some scraps of peat. His spirits rose as he worked. There was a wild charm in this outdoor life. He began to whistle; and finally burst into song --