"I never heard of such a shame in my life. It's my own money, and I don't care what you say. I will have it. It's downright cheating."

Murtagh's white face and angry flashing eyes added vehemence to his words. He was standing opposite Mr. Plunkett, his little figure drawn up to its full height, one foot slightly advanced, one hand resting on a corner of the table, his hair tossed, his clothes untidy as usual, his whole attitude breathing indignation and defiance.

The other children stood in a group behind him casting hot indignant glances at Mr. Plunkett, who was determined not to let himself be provoked into losing his temper, and now replied to Murtagh's words:

"To take new clothes for which your father had paid, and give them away without his permission, resembles stealing. You thought it would cost you nothing, and it is perfectly just that you should bear the consequences."

"It is not right. It is not just," returned Murtagh. "Papa said I was to have that half-sovereign as a birthday present, and nobody has a right to keep it from me."

"Besides," burst out Winnie, "Murtagh didn't take the shirts; I took them. I threw the apples in the river too, only you always like to fix everything on him."

"It was just the same thing," replied Mr. Plunkett. "Murtagh should not have allowed them to be taken. You don't seem to understand that in this world if you take what does not belong to you, you must pay for it. I am the steward of your father's money and in his interest I intend that you shall pay him back for the shirts you chose to give away. Had your general conduct been such as to justify me in overlooking this offence, I should have taken upon myself the responsibility of paying for your new shirts with his money."

"It's not in papa's interest, you know it isn't. Just as if he would care for two shirts. You're doing it because you like to plague us, and oppress us, and drive us into being wicked," replied Murtagh, passionately.

"I tell you what, young gentleman, if you were my son for just ten minutes, I would teach you not to use such impertinent language to your elders," returned Mr. Plunkett.

"If you don't want me to talk to you like that, you shouldn't behave so. It's my own money, that papa gave me to enjoy ourselves with."

"I thought you might have listened to reason," replied Mr. Plunkett, coldly, "but since you chose to behave like an infant, you shall be treated like an infant. I have the money and I shall keep it. If there is any over when your shirts have been paid for, it shall be returned to you."

"I will have it all," said Murtagh. "I don't care so much about the money, but you have no right to keep it when it's my own that papa gave me."

Mr. Plunkett left the room without making any answer. But Winnie's indignation now burst beyond all bounds, and dashing to the door she called after him: "He shall have every penny of it. If you steal it, I'll steal some of yours. So there, now. You have fair warning."

Nessa happened to be coming down the passage just at that moment, and she overheard the speech.

"What is the matter?" she asked, looking round at the angry faces.

"Oh, it's too bad," said Winnie; "he's going to steal Murtagh's half-sovereign. He's always perfectly delighted to get a chance of plaguing us, and he thinks just because he's the strongest that he'll conquer this time, but he shan't."

"What do you mean?" said Nessa. "Steal Murtagh's half-sovereign!"

"He says he won't give it to him," replied Winnie. "He's going to keep it to pay for the shirts we gave Theresa, and it was my plan about cutting them up, and I took them out of the drawer. He has no right to take Murtagh's money to pay for what I did."

"And now we can't have anything," said Rosie, "and we've asked all the children. What shall we do? We can't tell them not to come."

Murtagh was too angry to speak a word.

Nessa looked at him regretfully; and then she asked Winnie in a tone almost as disappointed as Rosie's, "How is it that you did not know till now?"

"I don't know," said Winnie. "He never said a single word till just now we asked him to give us the money to-day instead of the day after to-morrow, and he said: 'I have no money to give you.' First we thought he had forgotten, and we reminded him about the half-sovereign. Then he said: 'You spent that some time ago;' and he told us we were not to have it because of the shirts. Oh! he does do things in such a disagreeable way. You don't know what he's like."

"I am so sorry," said Nessa, full of unlawful sympathy. "What can we do?"

"We can't do anything," replied Rosie. "We'll just have to disappoint everybody and do without our feast, and it was such a beautiful plan. You didn't know half of it."

"He has no right to Murtagh's money, and he shan't keep it," said Bobbo, marching indignantly out of the room as he spoke. The other children followed him away out of doors; and whatever she might feel for their disappointment, Nessa had no further opportunity of trying to console them, for she saw no more of them all day.

No further opportunity of trying to console them with words, that is to say; but what would Mr. Plunkett have thought had he seen her a little later that afternoon?

Suddenly a brilliant idea crossed her mind. She laughed aloud a merry little laugh; then jumping up she marched straightway to the kitchen. There dear old Donnie was taken into counsel, and with small regard for principles of justice they hatched between them a plot—well, a plot for which the best excuse they could find was, that, as Nessa said, "It was such a pity not to be happy on a birthday."

"Never you fear, Miss Nessa," replied Mrs. Donegan. "It's me is housekeeper here, thank the Lord, and not Mr. Plunkett; and the children shall have a better feast than ever they'd buy with their poor little bit of money. Bless their hearts! they don't know the value of things. Whatever does he want, plaguing and worritting them for a couple o' little shirts, as if children won't be children all the world over!"

Nessa discreetly "supposed that Mr. Plunkett had his reasons;" but her eyes sparkled merrily as she added that she thought there could be no harm in giving the children a picnic to celebrate the birthday.

"'Deed and, Miss Nessa, if you want to know the truth of it, shadow a bit I care whether it's harm or no," replied old Donnie, laughing outright. "If the children have the fancy to feast all them dirty little vagabones out of the village, why, they shall feast them for all the Mr. Plunketts ever lived between this and Limerick. An' it's a pleasure to me to have the crossing of him for once, so it is."

"Well, don't tell that to the children, you wicked old thing," replied Nessa, laughing; and away she went singing along the passages without one pang of conscience for what she had done.

That evening she gleefully recounted her misdoings to her uncle, but the children gave her no opportunity of announcing to them the plan that had been arranged during their absence; they did not return to the house during the afternoon, and in the evening when Nessa went to look for them they were not in the schoolroom.

After she was in bed the idea occurred to her that perhaps they had not come in. It would be just like them to start away up the mountains after tea, and not come home till the servants were in bed. Nothing would have surprised her; she believed them quite capable of spending the night on the wet grass under the chestnut tree if they happened to find the doors locked.

She told herself that the idea was foolish, but having once got it into her head, she could not get it out again. And so, after turning and twisting two or three times upon her pillow, she decided that the best thing she could do was to go and see for herself if they were really and truly in their beds.

Slipping on her warm white dressing-gown she set off on her journey across the house; and great was her satisfaction as she softly opened the door of the little girls' bedroom, to hear through the darkness a sound of regular breathing which announced that its rightful inhabitants were not only in possession but were sound asleep.

Her mind was relieved, and she thought herself very foolish for her pains as she crossed the passage and looked also into the boys' room. Two little beds gleamed white in the far corners, but the lights and shadows were so disposed that Nessa was doubtful for a moment whether they were occupied. She advanced to the side of one of them, and while she stood contemplating Master Bobbo, whom she found safely enough tucked up in the bedclothes, a low "Nessa, is that you?" came from the other corner of the room.

She turned and saw Murtagh's dark eyes fixed upon her. "Yes," she replied, moving to his side of the room. "I hope I did not wake you?"

He looked at her for a moment, then he said in the same low voice: "We've got the money. Bobbo got it, and I can't go to sleep; I don't know what to do."

"How did you get it?" asked Nessa. "What made Mr. Plunkett change his mind?"

"Mr. Plunkett didn't change his mind; Bobbo got it the way Winnie said, while Mr. Plunkett was down at supper."

"Do you mean he stole it?" asked Nessa, in dismay.

"Yes," replied Murtagh. "At least I mean, it isn't stealing really. It couldn't be stealing, because it's only our own money; papa said we were to have it."

"Oh, Murtagh, I am so sorry you have done that!" said Nessa, greatly troubled. "It is stealing."

"It's our own money, though," said Murtagh. "Papa said we were to have one half-sovereign from Mr. Plunkett, and this will be only one; only Winnie and I thought we didn't care about spending it now any more; we thought we'd like to bury it in the island or somewhere. Then we wouldn't have submitted to him tyrannizing; but nobody could say we'd regularly—You don't think it could be real stealing, do you?" he asked, breaking off the other sentence, as though he shrank from saying the ugly sounding word.

"Yes, I do," said Nessa. "But you will give it back because, listen, Murtagh—"

"There's Winnie," said Murtagh, who was lying with his face turned to the door.

Nessa turned and saw a little barefooted white figure standing in the middle of the room. It was Winnie, who had overheard Nessa's last words.

"It can't be stealing," she said, coming up to the bedside. "I've been thinking about it ever since we went to bed, and it's our own."

"No," replied Nessa, lifting up one side of her dressing-gown for the little shivering figure to creep under. "It's not your own. You are mistaken. You are doing something that will not be honorable. Listen, I can explain it to you quite plainly. Two new shirts will cost about seven shillings and sixpence, so you gave seven and sixpence to Theresa. That is, you spent seven and sixpence, and now you have only half-a-crown. You have not got a whole half-sovereign; it would be just common stealing to take it. And then, another thing," she continued warmly, "even if it was your own, I don't think it is honorable to creep into a person's house to take something when his back is turned; it would be better to lose twenty half-sovereigns. It does not matter if a gentleman loses his rights, but it does matter very much if he stoops to get them back by deceit."

This view was new to the children. They were too firmly entrenched in their own opinion to be convinced in a moment, but their rights began somehow to seem to them small things after all. They tried to reproduce the arguments with which they had convinced themselves; but reasons, excellent before, sounded weak and empty now, and after a faint attempt to defend themselves they accepted Nessa's view.

"Well, we'll give it back to him to-morrow morning," said Murtagh, finally. "But if I live to be a hundred years old," he added, "I shall always hate him. He's spoiled every bit of our pleasure; it may be just, but he wouldn't have done it if he hadn't wanted to spite us for throwing the apples in the river."

"Did you throw apples in the river?" asked Nessa. "You see it is such a pity you are naughty. You vex Mr. Plunkett and he vexes you. Couldn't you try to be good?"

"No," said Murtagh, "I can't be good, because as soon as I do try, he does something that makes us bad again, worse than ever."

"There's one good thing," remarked Winnie. "He'll know now that we could have had the money if we had chosen to keep it."

Nessa said that she thought it was a great pity not to be friends with people. Then she said "Good night" to Murtagh, and under the shelter of her dressing-gown conveyed Winnie back to her little bed.

Murtagh and Winnie apparently broke to the others early next morning the news of the intended restitution, for when Nessa met them at the breakfast-table, Bobbo said to her good-humoredly:

"All right; I don't mind; I only said he shouldn't keep it, so I just took it to show him he shouldn't; this way will do just as well."

Rosie was the one who disapproved most highly, for she very much disliked the prospect of giving up their delightful birthday plan. Her anger was all directed against Mr. Plunkett. Since Nessa said it would be real stealing to keep the half-sovereign, she was willing that it should be given back. She had taken a great fancy to Nessa, and was anxious to stand well in her esteem. But as for Mr. Plunkett, no words could be bad enough for him, she thought. It was all humbug and nonsense about it being just. He was doing it to spite them and nothing else. So Rosie said to Mrs. Donegan, as the children dawdled through the kitchen after breakfast:

"And how can we manage about the feast?" she lamented. "It's so dreadful to ask people to come, and then tell them they mustn't because we have no money."

"If Mr. Plunkett thinks I'm going to stand by quiet and see such a slight put on Mr. Launcelot's children, he's mighty mistaken," returned Donnie, her indignation flaming out anew. "Never you fear, but ye shall have a feast, and a better one than ever came out of a confectioner's shop. If that's all ye were going to spend your money on, ye shall have yer money's worth. It was Miss Nessa herself came to the kitchen and settled it wid me yesterday."

"Oh, Donnie!" exclaimed the children in delight, "do you mean you'll give us the things to eat?"

"Just settle amongst yourselves what yez want, and let me know by dinner-time. I'll hurry through with my work this morning, and all ye need trouble yourselves is to bring the cart round to-morrow to the kitchen door."

"You darling old Honey-donnie! Won't it be a sell for Mr. Plunkett?" exclaimed Bobbo, while Murtagh's face lit up joyously, and the little girls began to arrange what they would want.

"Apple-pie and custards I vote for!" exclaimed Murtagh, breaking in upon their discussion; "only let's look sharp about arranging, because Nessa has sent to ask Mr. Plunkett to come to the drawing-room."

"Ye won't let on a word to Mr. Plunkett?" said Donnie, who in her secret heart was as much afraid of him as anybody.

"You needn't be afraid. We're not likely to have much conversation with him," returned Murtagh, with a scornful intonation. "But did Nessa really think about that yesterday?"

"She did so," replied Donnie. "She came in, and I was whipping the cream here by the table, and 'Donnie,' says she, with her sweet way, 'the poor children have got into a great scrape;' and then she told me all about it, and we put our heads together."

"How awfully jolly of her!" exclaimed Murtagh; "come along off to the drawing-room, and let's thank her before old Plunkett arrives."

They were in full flow of enthusiastic thanks and merry plan-making when Mr. Plunkett's step was heard.

"Whisht!" cried Murtagh. "Here comes the man-eater! where's his pill?" Bobbo exploded with laughter, and Murtagh desperately hunting in all his pockets had but just time to find the half-sovereign before Mr. Plunkett entered the room. Nessa feared for a moment that the children were going to turn the whole affair into a joke, but at sight of Mr. Plunkett every sign of laughter vanished from their faces.

Mr. Plunkett turned to Nessa and inquired politely what she wished to speak to him about.

"It is Murtagh who wishes to speak to you," she replied. Murtagh, without any apparent bashfulness, advanced and said with a grave dignity of manner that astonished Nessa:

"I wanted to give you back this. We took it yesterday because we thought you had no right to keep it from us; but now we have been thinking, and you are just, though you needn't have done it." As he spoke he handed the half-sovereign to Mr. Plunkett, and then left the room.

"I do not understand," said Mr. Plunkett, looking at the coin. "I never heard of such a thing! What does the boy mean? Did he steal it?"

"No," said Bobbo, turning very red and stammering, "I took it because it was Murtagh's own, and it's a horrid shame the way you plague him!"

"Bobbo," said Nessa, reproachfully, "you are not polite!"

"Polite! Miss Blair," said Mr. Plunkett, "neither he nor his brother ever are polite. But this," he continued, looking down again at the half-sovereign, "is more than I expected even from them! I did think they would have hesitated before taking money that does not belong to them. Since it is not so, why I shall for the future be careful to lock up my purse. They are certainly charming young gentlemen!"

The scornful accentuation of the last word flushed the children's cheeks with anger, but for once they controlled themselves, and without speaking went out to rejoin Murtagh.

"Do not be too hard on them," pleaded Nessa. "They thought they had a right to take it. You see how they give it back to you now."

"I do not pretend to be acquainted with their thoughts, Miss Blair, but in my eyes nothing can excuse a downright theft," replied Mr. Plunkett, and he bowed and left the room.

"Ah!" sighed Murtagh, on the terrace, as the children, joining him, repeated Mr. Plunkett's every word and gesture. "It is too bad the way every plan we have gets spoilt; I did think this one was going to be all right!"

"Well, you know," said Winnie, "it has been all right really. About the shirts was our last plan; and we gave back the money when we thought that part wasn't right."

"Yes; but it's all the same, the way things get mixed up. You do one little thing, and then that makes you have to do a lot more. First we took Theresa, that made us want the money; then wanting the money made us give Theresa the shirts to make her happy. Then giving her the shirts made old Plunkett take our money, and that made us take his, and that made us all in a rage, and I don't care about the ceremony or anything now."

"Never mind, Myrrh," exclaimed Winnie. "It's no good making ourselves miserable now. Put it out of your head. That's what I do. I always keep some awfully jolly thing in my mind for thinking about, and then when I have any troubles I think of it instead. My thing now is what the followers will look like when they see the feast spread out. Can't you imagine?—their eyes will get so big, and their faces red all over."

"Oh, yes," said Murtagh, "and we must lay it out on the other side of the court-yard wall, so that they mayn't see it at first, because they will be so surprised."

And then forgetting their anger the children talked merrily on, till twelve o'clock ringing out from the stables reminded them that they were hungry.

With the half-crown that remained from Murtagh's money they bought the green ribbon which they considered indispensable to the proper celebration of the ceremony; and having employed every spare minute of the day in making evergreen wreaths, they had a last grand singing practice on the island, and went to bed early, so as to make the morrow come quicker.