“If I was to be put on my oath,” said Jimmy slowly, “and was to be asked what I thought of her----” “That’s just what I am asking you.” “I’d say she was a high up lady; may be one of them ones that does be waiting on the Queen, or the wife of the Lord Lieutenant or such.” “What makes you say that?” “The skin of her.” Jimmy’s eyes which had been fixed on the remote horizon focussed themselves slowly for nearer objects. His glance settled finally on Priscilla’s bare feet. “Ah!” she said, “when she took off her shoes and stockings?” “Saving your presence, Miss, the legs of her doesn’t look as if she was accustomed to going about that way.” “And that’s all you know about her?” “Herself and a gentleman that was along with her settled with my da yesterday for the use of the boat, the way I’d row her anywhere she’d a fancy to go.” “That was the gentleman who has Flanagan’s old boat, I suppose?” “It was not then, but a different gentleman altogether.” “Then you can leave him out,” said Priscilla, “and tell me all you know about the other couple, the ones who lost their boat.” “Them ones,” said Jimmy, “has no sense, no more than a baby would have. Did you hear what they’re after paying Flanagan for that old boat of his?” “Four pounds a week.” “You’d think,” said Jimmy, “that when they’d no more care for their money than to be throwing it away that way they’d be able to afford to pay for a roof over their heads and not to be sleeping on the bare ground with no more than a cotton rag to shelter them. It was last Friday they came in to Inishbawn looking mighty near as if they’d had enough of it. ‘Is there any objection,’ says he, ‘to our camping on this island?’ ‘We’ll pay you,’ says the lady, ‘anything in reason for the use of the land.’ My da was terrible sorry for them, for he could see well that they weren’t ones that was used to hardship; but he told them that it would be better for them not.” “On account of the rats?” “Rats! What rats?” “The rats that have the island very nearly eaten,” said Priscilla. “Sorra the rat ever I saw on Inishbawn, only one that came out in the boat one day along with a sack of yellow meal my da was bringing home from the quay; and I killed it myself with the slap of a loy.” “I just thought Peter Walsh was telling me a lie about the rats,” said Priscilla. “But if it wasn’t rats will you tell me why your father wouldn’t let them camp on Inishbawn?” “He said it would be better for them not,” said Jimmy, “on account of there being fever on it, for fear they might catch it and maybe die.” “What fever?” “I don’t rightly know the name of it; but sure my ma is covered thick with yellow spots the size of a sixpence or bigger; and the young lads is worse. The cries of them at night would make you turn round on your bed pitying them.” “Do you expect me to believe all that?” said Priscilla.