“Joseph Anthony didn’t rightly know, but it’s his belief that he’s on Ilaunglos, or Ardilaun, or one of them to the north of Carrowbee.”
“He can’t be living there, then. There isn’t a house on any of those islands.”
“Joseph Anthony was saying that he might maybe have a tent with him and be sleeping in it the same as the tinkers would. I’ve heard of the like.”
“Did he see the tent?”
“He did not; but there could be a tent without his seeing it. What I seen myself was the things the young fellow bought in Brannigan’s and put into Flanagan’s old boat. He had a can of paraffin oil with a cork drove into the neck of it, and he’d two loaves of bread done up in brown paper, and he’d a couple of tins that might be meat of one kind or another, and along with them he had a pound of tea and maybe two of sugar. I misdoubted when I saw him carrying them down the quay, but it was some kind of a picnic he was out for. Them kind of fellows has very little sense.”
“I expect,” said Priscilla, “that he’ll be drowned before long, and then they’ll find some papers on his body that’ll tell us who he is. I must be off now, Peter, or I’ll be late for the train.”
“You’re time enough, Miss. Sure them trains is never punctual.”
“They are not,” said Priscilla, “except on the days when you happen to be late for them. Then they make a point of being up to the minute just to score off you.”