“It is, Miss, surely. There’s ne’er another boat in the bay but herself with the bit of an old flour sack sewed on along the leach of the sail. It was only last week my da was saying——”
“We haven’t a moment to lose,” said Priscilla. “Miss Rutherford, you help Frank down. I’ll run on and get up the foresail.”
“But the soup?” said Miss Rutherford, “and the peppermint creams, and the rest of the luncheon?”
“If you feel that you can spare the peppermint creams,” said Priscilla, “we’ll take them. But we can’t wait for the soup.”
“Take the bread, too,” said Miss Rutherford, “and the peaches. It won’t delay you a minute to put in the peaches!”
“If you’re perfectly certain you don’t want them for yourself, we’ll be very glad to have them.”
“Nothing would induce me to eat a Californian peach in selfish solitude,” said Miss Rutherford, “I should choke if I tried.”
“Right,” said Priscilla. “You carry them down and sling them on board. I’ll help Frank. Now, then, Cousin Frank, do stand up. I can’t drag you down over the seaweed on your side. You’ve got to hop more or less.”
Miss Rutherford, with the loaf of bread, the peaches and the peppermint creams in her hand, ran down to the boat. Frank and Priscilla followed her. Jimmy had put the anchor on board and was holding the Tortoise with her bow against the shingle.
“Take me, too,” said Miss Rutherford. “I love chasing spies more than anything else in the world.”