She disengaged herself gently, submitting with good grace to a caress in the process, and left the room for about a minute. When she came back she gave him his answer.
“You are to tell me whose writing this is.”
At a glance Will saw whose the upright characters, written left-handed, were.
“The Admiral’s,” he answered, with an air of respect to the writing.
“Take it.”
“What am I to do with it? may I read it?”
“Oh yes, you may read it, if you can, and give it to the captain of your ship.”
Will read it out in a slow puzzled way: “‘Give the rogue a month for cutting laces.’”
“Why, what jest is this, Rusidda?”
“I asked you, dear, and you told me, whose writing this is; or am I speaking to a fool, Signor W-Will?”