A. K. Hamilton Jenkin relates a story of Rebecca Noall who died in 1927 in St. Ives as illustration of the fact that "hitherto unrecorded stories are still to be found by those who are willing to make a diligent search" and as "one of the most circumstantial accounts of an appearance of the small people known to the writer":
There died at St Ives in the year 1927 an elderly lady, named Mrs Rebecca Noall, who in her youth had been employed assistant in a shop on Tregenna Place. In those days it was not uncommon for the girls to be kept at work until eleven, or even twelve o'clock at night, on special occasions when some order had to executed within a limited time. One evening, when she had been working thus to a late hour, her father went round to the shop to meet her, in order to give her company home. They started off together, and had reached a spot in Fore Street, known as 'The Cliff', when an extraordinary sight greeted their eyes. On each side of them appeared a procession of 'little people' walking in an orderly fashion, arm in arm, with the greatest decorum and dignity. The old lady used to describe them as being the neatest little creatures imaginable, and beautifully dressed in scarlet cloaks and black steeple-crowned hats. Her father had evidently seen them as clearly as herself, for, in a whisper, he bade her keep strict silence and avoid attracting the attention by any exclamation of surprise. Thus they passed by and reached home safely, none the worse for their strange encounter. To the end of her life, however, the sight which had been vouchsafed them remained deeply impressed upon the lady's memory, and she would often recount the story to her family, who cherish it to this day.
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