her fingers. But Sylvia Courtney never was any good at things like
mouse-traps. What she likes is English Literature."

"How did you stop her going to the far end of the island?" said Frank,
"if she thought there was an infectious fever for Mr. Pennefather to
catch----"

"I dare say you mentioned the wild heifer," said Priscilla.

"I did not then. What I said was rats."

"Rather mean of you that," said Priscilla. "The rats were Peter Walsh's
originally. You shouldn't have taken them. That's what's called--What is
it called, Cousin Frank? Something to do with plagues, I know. Is there
such a word as plague-ism? Anyhow it's what poets do when they lift
other poets' rhymes and it's considered mean."

"It was me told Peter Walsh about the rats," said Kinsella, repelling
an unjust accusation. "The way they came swimming in on the tide would
surprise you, and the gulls picking the eyes out of the biggest of them
as they came swimming along. But that wouldn't stop them."

"I'll just run up and have a word with Barnabas," said Priscilla. "It'll
be as well for him to know that father and Lord Torrington are out after
him today in the _Tortoise_."

"Do you tell me that?" said Kinsella.

"It'll be all right," said Priscilla. "They'll never get here. But of
course Barnabas may want to make his will in case of accidents. Just you
help the young gentleman ashore, Kinsella. He can't get along very well
by himself on account of the way Lord Torrington treated him. Then you'd
better haul the boat up a bit. It's rather beginning to blow and I
see the wind really has got round to the southeast I hardly thought it
would, but it has. Winds so seldom do what everybody says they're going
to. I'm sure you've noticed that."

She walked up the rough stony beach. A fierce gust, spray-laden and
eloquent with promise of rain, swept past her.

"If I'd known," said Kinsella sulkily, "that half the country would be
out after them ones, I'd have drownded them in the sea and their tents
along with them before I let them set foot on Inishbawn."

"Lord Torrington won't do you any harm," said Frank. "He's only trying
to get back his daughter."

"I don't know," said Kinsella, still in a very bad temper, "what
anybody'd want with the likes of that girl. You'd think a man would be
glad to get rid of her and thankful to anybody that was fool enough
to take her off his hands. She's no sense. Miss Priscilla has little
enough, but she's young and it