She laughed convulsively. The scene was sufficiently ridiculous. The spy stood dripping forlornly, on the shore. The lady dabbed at various parts of his clothing with her pocket-handkerchief. Flanagan’s old boat, now fairly in mid-channel, bobbed cheerfully along on the ebbing tide. “I’d give a lot this minute,” said Priscilla, “for a pair of glasses. I can’t think why I was such a fool as not to take father’s when we were starting.” “I can see well enough,” said Frank. “What I’d like would be to be able to hear what he’s saying.” “I don’t take any interest in bad language, and in any case I don’t believe he’s capable of it. He looked to me like the kind of man who wouldn’t say anything much worse than ‘Dear me.’” “Wouldn’t he? Look at him now. If he isn’t cursing I’ll eat my hat.” The spy had shaken himself free of his companion’s pocket handkerchief. He was waving his arms violently and shouting so loudly that his voice reached the Tortoise against the wind. “I suppose,” said Priscilla, “that that’s his way of trying to get dry without catching a chill. Horrid ass, isn’t he? It’d be far better for him to run. What’s the good of yelling? I expect in reality it’s simply temper.” But Priscilla underestimated the intelligence of the spy. It appeared very soon that he was not merely giving expression to emotion, but had a purpose in his performance. The lady, too, began to shout, shrilly. She waved her damp pocket handkerchief round and round her head. Priscilla and Frank turned and saw that another boat, a small black boat, with a very dilapidated lug sail, had appeared round the corner of the next island, and was making towards Inishark. “Bother,” said Priscilla, “that man, whoever he is, will bring them back their boat.” The steersman in the lug-sailed boat altered his course slightly and reached down towards the derelict. As he neared her he dropped his sail and got out oars. “That’s young Kinsella,” said Priscilla. “I know him by the red sleeve his mother sewed into that gray shirt of his. No one else has a shirt the least like it. He’s a soft-hearted sort of boy who’d do a good turn to any one. He’s sure to take their boat back to them.” “He has a lady with him,” said Frank. “He has. I can’t see who she is; but it doesn’t look like his mother. Can’t be, in fact, for she has a baby to mind. I collared a lot of flannel out of a box in Aunt Juliet’s room last ‘hols’ and gave it to her for the baby. It’s a bit of what I gave her that was made into a sleeve for Jimmy’s shirt. I wonder now who it is he has got with him?” Jimmy Kinsella overtook the drifting boat, took her painter, and began to tow her towards Inishark. “That lady,” said Priscilla, “is a black stranger to me. Who can she possibly be?”