less and the sea smooth save for the ocean swell which made
shorewards in a long procession of round-topped waves. It was a day
which might have tempted even a timid tourist to visit the island. But
there was no sign of anyone approaching the pier.

"I'm thinking," said Michael Kane, "that we may as well be starting.
There'll be no one coming with us the day."

But he was mistaken. A passenger, an eager-looking young woman, was
hurrying towards the pier while they were making up their minds to
start.

Miss Ivy Clarence had prepared herself for a voyage which seemed to her
something of an adventure. She wore a tight-fitting knitted cap, a long,
belted, waterproof coat, meant originally to be worn by a soldier in the
trenches in France. She had a thick muffler round her neck. She carried
a rug, a packet of sandwiches, a small handbag and an umbrella, of all
possible accoutrements the least likely to be useful in an open boat.
But though she carried an umbrella, Miss Clarence did not look like a
fool. She might know nothing about boats and the way to travel in them,
but she had a bright, intelligent face and a self-confident decision of
manner. She was by profession a journalist, and had conceived the idea
of visiting Ireland and writing articles about that unfortunate country.
Being an intelligent journalist she knew that articles about the state
of Ireland are overdone and very tiresome. Nobody, especially during the
holiday season, wants to be bored with Irish politics. But for
bright, cheery descriptions of Irish life and customs, as for similar
descriptions of the ways of other strange peoples, there is always a
market. Miss Clarence determined to exploit it. She planned to visit
five or six of the larger islands off the Irish coast. There, if
anywhere, quaint customs, picturesque superstitions and primitive ways
of living might still be found.

Michael greeted her as if she had been an honoured guest. He was
determined to make the trip as pleasant as he could for anyone who was
wise enough to leave the tennis-courts and the golf-links.

"It's a grand day for seeing Inishrua," he said. "Not a better day
there's been the whole summer up to now. And why wouldn't it be fine?
It would be a queer day that wouldn't when a young lady like yourself is
wanting to go on the sea."

This was the kind of speech, flattering, exaggerated, slightly
surprising, which Michael Kane was accustomed to make to his passengers.
Miss C