At the tower the followers were eagerly expecting the return of their little chiefs. While the children had been away they had rambled about under Pat O'Toole's direction, and had each brought a beautiful branch of mountain-ash, loaded with scarlet berries, to hold in their hands, and had gathered bunches of white heather. They had added, too, to the decorations by fixing branches of mountain-ash wherever one of the festoons was looped, and they were most anxious to know whether Rosie would approve their taste. She did heartily, and the broad, good-humored faces beamed with delight at her thanks.

A white table-cloth was hastily thrown over the hampers, and the followers were told to wash their feet and hurry on their clean pinafores, which latter had been wisely put on one side in the early part of the day. Ellie was to be the messenger who was to summon Nessa, and her shabby green frock was far from suitable to such an occasion. Rosie looked at her in despair for a moment.

"Quick, quick, Winnie, the needles and thread," she said; and then she and Winnie tacked a garland of white heather round the hem of the frock, looped it up over the short, scarlet linsey petticoat, and placed bunches of white heather on the breast and shoulders with such effect that when Murtagh crowned the child's golden head with a wreath of the same white flowers, Winnie cried in delight, "Oh, Ellie, you do look like a little fairy, so you do."

"All but the boots and stockings," returned Murtagh.

"Tate 'em off," said Ellie, eagerly holding up one foot. "Ellie want to be a fairy."

"The grass'll prick," said Winnie. But Ellie replied: "Me don't mind. Ellie be a fairy then, and look so pretty."

So they pulled off the clumsy boots, and she danced gleefully over the grass, her golden curls falling over her dimpled shoulders, her little white feet and legs twinkling in the sunlight.

"'Deed it's like an angel right down from heaven she is!" exclaimed more than one of the followers, while Rose, with anxiety said: "Take care, Ellie; don't shake off your wreath. Now you're to come with us where Nessa is behind the rock, and you're to tell her—What shall we say, Murtagh?"

"Tell her to come and be one of us," replied Murtagh, grandiloquently. "You lead Ellie down, Rosie. All you followers follow, and as soon as Miss Nessa comes round the rock, form into two lines for her to pass through, and scatter your flowers. Now begin to sing."

He touched his violin. Winnie's clear voice rose first, then all the others joined in, and the music swelled in harmony as the little procession moved down the slope.

Notwithstanding the sunlight, the flowers, and the gay dresses of the children, there was a something almost solemn in their voices.

"Now go," said Rosie, loosing the child's hand as the singing began gently to die away.

With flushed cheeks and the same wondering look still in her eyes, Ellie sprang round the rock, and holding out her hand to Nessa, she cried earnestly:

"Oor to tum and be a fairy. Ellie's not frightened. It doesn' hurt."

"No, dear," replied Nessa, taking hold of the little hot hand. "Only fun for Nessa and Ellie together."

"Yes, only fun," said Ellie. They came out from behind the rock, and were received with a cheer ending in a burst of music.

"How very, very pretty!" exclaimed Nessa, taking in the whole scene at a glance and standing still in admiration.

Almost opposite to them rose the grassy slope with the irregular double file of followers winding down its side. Through their ranks Nessa could see Murtagh playing his violin. Behind rose the gray ruin wreathed in flowers, and above and beyond all, clear blue sky flecked with sunny clouds spread over the purple hilltops as far as the eye could reach.

"Tum," said Ellie, pulling her hand; and through the singing children Nessa walked slowly towards the throne. But now Ellie was not the only one who felt solemnity underlying the play. The children could not have told how much they were in earnest; their hearts were beating fast, they scarcely knew why, and there was a tone in their voices that filled Nessa with emotion.

When Nessa was quite close the music ceased. Murtagh descended from his seat, and with the followers pressing eagerly round to see, Nessa was with due form received into the tribe, and the green ribbon was tied about her arm. Then came the moment for her to promise to hate the "Agents." It was the interesting point, the crisis as it were of the whole ceremony; and there was an almost breathless silence while Murtagh, his voice shaking a little with excitement, said to her, "Will you promise faithfully to hate the 'Agents,' and to defend your tribe against them?"

She looked round the listening circle with a sort of troubled astonishment, and then turning to Murtagh she answered quite gravely:

"No. I do not like hating."

A burst of expressive lament escaped from the crowd. Murtagh looked puzzled and disappointed.

"What shall we do?" he asked at length, turning to the followers.

"Make her princess over us, anyhow, Mr. Murtagh. It can't be helped," cried Pat O'Toole, magnanimously, and the other followers by their acclamations seconded his request.

"Yes, do! yes, do!" cried Winnie, Bobbo, and Rosie.

Murtagh took the wreath of shamrocks and would have placed it on Nessa's head; but she drew back and said, "No; I do not think I can be your princess."

Murtagh paused with the wreath in his hands too much astonished to speak.

"Have you promised what you wanted me to promise?" asked Nessa.

"That we have; sworn it!" cried the children, eagerly, regaining their voices.

"That was what I thought," said Nessa, beginning to unfasten the ribbon from her arm. "That is why I cannot be one of your tribe."

"Oh, stop a minute! stop a minute!" cried Rosie and the children, while Murtagh asked, "What do you want us to do?"

"I want you to undo the promise you have made, and to try never to hate any one," said Nessa, resolutely, her cheeks flushing a little, and her eyes dark and bright. "Do you not feel wicked when you hate?"

There was a pause; but for the moment Nessa had the little crowd in her power. Pat O'Toole was the first to speak.

"'Deed and she's right," he exclaimed. "When my paddy's up, it's little I care what I do."

"Faix, and it's little good we get by hating them," remarked another of the elder followers.

But to Murtagh himself the question was a more personal one. He was thinking deeply. Then, his whole countenance opening out into a sunny smile, he turned to Nessa and said, "I'll try."

That was all that was needed.

"So will I," said Winnie; and more or less earnestly the promise was echoed by the crowd.

"Then I will be your princess if you will have me," said Nessa. "And shall I give you a device,—a motto for the tribe?" she added.

"Yes, yes," cried Murtagh. "What is it?"

"'Peace on earth, goodwill towards men.' Will you have that?"

She looked round with a gentle pleading in her eyes, and then taking off her hat knelt down on the grass before Murtagh.

"God bless her!" cried the followers, and Murtagh's face was white, and his hands trembling, as he laid the wreath upon her head.

In the midst of the echoing hurrahs Murtagh led her up the steps of the throne. The excitement of the children had been growing greater and greater. During the ceremony they had been obliged to keep it down, but now it burst forth without restraint.

They danced and shouted round the throne like mad creatures. At last Murtagh struck the first notes of the "Shan van Vaugh," and every one found relief in spending upon that the force of their lungs. How they did sing! Their voices rang through the mountain rocks; even little Ellie, standing on the throne beside Nessa, sang diligently all the time the only words she knew, "Says de Shan van Vaugh; says de Shan van Vaugh;" and when with a last triumphant burst came the ending lines:

Nessa clapped her hands and cried in delight: "Oh, how pretty it is out of doors! How pretty it all is!"

Almost as she did so a strange voice exclaimed, "Well, children, are you holding a Fenian meeting?" The words were accompanied by a little laugh, but they had the effect of putting a complete stop to the children's mirth.

Nessa looked round, and standing by the low wall she perceived a lady. By her side stood a fashionably dressed girl of sixteen, whose face wore an expression of amused contempt.

"Or have you quite given up civilized life," continued the lady, with a series of little laughs, "and resolved to live up here with your select circle of friends? I thought you were to have some one to take care of you. How do you get on with the new cousin, eh, Murtagh? Oh, I'm sure I beg your pardon," she added, suddenly perceiving Nessa, and making up for her first oversight by a fixed and deliberate stare.

The color deepened in Nessa's cheeks as she bowed.

"So you have a new playfellow, children. That must be very nice for you. You have good strong nerves, I suppose, and don't mind noise," she added, addressing Nessa. "Well, you are quite right; it's no good having delicate ways and ideas when you have to live with a big family. Those things do well enough where there's only one or two."

At this point Murtagh seemed to think that she had monopolized the conversation long enough, for he now walked up to her, and holding out his hand said gravely:

"How do you do, Cousin Jane? How do you do, Emma?"

The three other children followed his example with automatic regularity, and no social extinguisher could have been more effective. Cousin Jane was completely silenced.

"It is no use our staying here any longer, mamma," exclaimed Emma. "We shall see them all when they are quiet and tidy in the house this evening. We could not imagine," she said, turning politely to Nessa, "what all the noise was. That is why we came up."

"It is a birthday," said Nessa, smiling, as she glanced at the groups of followers, "and we are en grande fÊte."

"We've got a jolly good feast for them, too," said Bobbo, confidentially.

"A feast, have you?" exclaimed Cousin Jane. "Oh, well, there's a lot of fruit and cakes in the carriage. You'd like them, now, I daresay, as well as any other time. Here, you little one," turning to one of the followers; "do you know how to eat sweeties?"

The little girl addressed put her finger sheepishly in her mouth, and Cousin Jane pulled out of her pocket a large paper of sweeties, which she proceeded good-humoredly to distribute, while Emma, turning to Nessa, asked if such a noise did not make her head ache?

"No!" said Nessa; "it amuses me very much."

"And I dare say you've been accustomed to it," added Cousin Jane. "But I wonder what Ma'mselle would say to such lessons; eh, Emma?"

Emma laughed contemptuously, and Cousin Jane, dropping her voice to a confidential tone, continued: "You know I'm the only lady they have to look after them, so we must have some talks about them. The idea of allowing them to come up here with that pack of dirty children. Nobody in the world but John would do such a thing. But he's so wrapped up in books, and stones, and pictures, he puts all his duties on one side. If it wasn't for Mr. Plunkett, I don't know what would become of the place; that man is the salvation of the estate."

This seemed a fruitful subject to Cousin Jane, for she continued to talk without interruption till the carriage was reached.

Nessa found nothing to say, and was only glad that the children had careered on in front. Frankie was not in the carriage; he had preferred to drive in the dog-cart with a servant; so it was the affair of a few minutes only to find the basket Cousin Jane destined for the children; and then, it must be confessed to the relief of every one, the carriage drove on towards Castle Blair.

"Wait till you see Frankie," said Murtagh. "He's not a bit like that."

"I say, Murtagh," called Bobbo, "come and wash your hands, and let us see about unpacking the grub." A hatful of water flung after the invitation proved irresistible; in another minute Murtagh was taking his revenge, and water was flying in every direction.

Suddenly in the midst of the fun a splendid Newfoundland dog bounded through the hedge, fairly upsetting Winnie, and splashing the water over them all.

"In the name of all that's wonderful, where do you come from?" exclaimed Murtagh.

A low, rippling laugh made both Nessa and Murtagh look round, and in a dog-cart on the other side of the hedge they saw a delicate-looking little boy sitting watching Winnie with delight.

"Frankie!" exclaimed Murtagh, springing forward.

"Yes," said Frankie. "How do you do? What are you doing? Was it you making that jolly noise? Have you heard why we've come here? There is such a splendid plan. The doctors say I am to go to the seaside, and some of you are to come."

Murtagh was busy climbing through the hedge and into the dog-cart, exclaiming: "How are you, old fellow? Are you any better? Where did you get him? He is such a beauty!" The last words referred, of course, to the dog, whom Winnie had caught, and was now leading back to the stream.

The servant who accompanied him began to assure Murtagh that Mr. Frank was much better, and would soon be quite well now; but Frankie seemed to wish to change the subject, and said hurriedly: "Yes, isn't he splendid! He was given to me, but I've been training him for Winnie. He's no good to me, you know; if he knocks me over, I don't get my breath back for a week. But I thought she'd like him. He's as quiet as a lamb unless you set him at anybody, and then he goes at them like—"

"Like an Irishman," suggested Murtagh; but though his words were meant for a joke he looked wistfully at his cousin, wishing to ask more questions about his health. He was very fond of Frankie, and it made him sorry to see the sunken cheeks and wasted hands that told even to childish eyes how ill the boy was.

Frankie nodded and sat silently looking at Winnie and the dog, with a pleased smile playing round his mouth.

Winnie had not yet perceived him, and her attention was entirely absorbed by the dog. Both her arms were round its neck, and as she walked along by its side, bending down, she showered upon it every endearing epithet she could think of.

"Perhaps you're lost, and perhaps we won't be able to find your master, however hard we look, and then you'll stay with us; won't you, my beauty?" she was saying, when she glanced up and saw Frankie.

Instantly the dog was forgotten, and she flew towards the road, exclaiming: "Frankie! How jolly!"

Frankie laughed again his low, pleased laugh; but did not attempt to say more than, "Yes; here I am," as Winnie climbed up on the wheel of the dog-cart and pulled down his face to be kissed.

"We're having such fun!" she continued; "get down, and come up to the tower with us."

"No, I mustn't do that," replied Frankie, looking wistfully at the tower and then smiling again as his eyes fell to the dog standing by Winnie's side. "I only stopped to see what you'd think of Royal."

"You don't mean to say that this beautiful dog is yours!" exclaimed Winnie. "Oh, Frankie, you are a lucky boy!"

"Yes, it is," said Murtagh.

"Your very, very own?" inquired Winnie, doubtful whether it were possible for any child to possess such a treasure.

"No," said Frankie; "he isn't mine, he is yours."

"Wha—what do you mean?" asked Winnie, astonished, the color deepening a little in her cheeks.

"I mean what I say," repeated Frankie, his face beaming. "He is your very own dog; I have been training him for you, and I've brought him here for you!"

Winnie did not seem able to take it in. The color spread over her cheeks and mounted to her forehead. Her big eyes grew round and bigger, but she did not dare to believe such a thing could be till Murtagh exclaimed:

"Frankie's given him to you. He's your very own, as own as own can be!"

Then a light broke over her face, and tightening the grasp of her arms round Royal's neck she half strangled him in an embrace, while all she could say was, "Oh, Frankie!"

Frankie seemed well satisfied with her thanks.

Murtagh laughed and said, "She doesn't believe it now."

"Yes, I do," said Winnie, "only it's too good! I can't seem to know it. Oh, Frankie, I think I shall go crazy with gladness!" Suddenly she tore up the hill, calling to Royal to follow, and burst upon the assembled children, exclaiming: "He's mine! He's my very own! Frankie's just given him to me!" Then she raced down again like some mad thing, and ran away at full speed over the heather with Royal at her heels.

Frankie stayed only to display some of Royal's accomplishments and to show Winnie's name engraved upon the collar. Then he drove away, leaving their new treasure with the children.

But it was getting to be quite afternoon by this time, and nobody had had any dinner yet, so Murtagh careered up the hill, crying: "Come along now, and let's have scene number two in the entertainment. I feel as if I was quite ready. How are you, Winnie?"

Winnie's answer was more expressive than elegant. In a very few moments the cloth was spread upon the ground and covered with Mrs. Donegan's dainties. The children were in no way disappointed in the pleasure of watching the queer expressions of the faces as dish after dish came out of the hampers. Poor hungry followers! they had had nothing to eat since an early hour that morning, and few of them had ever even seen such things as Mrs. Donegan had prepared.

Winnie was in ecstasy over their pleasure. At first they were too shy to help themselves to anything, but she jumped up and had soon piled some of their plates. Rosie and the boys did the same, and the followers quickly recovered themselves sufficiently to talk, and eat, and laugh.

"Now, whatever more you want you must really help yourselves," cried Murtagh, returning to his place, after having gone once round. "I'm so starving that if I don't get something soon, I shall eat one of you."

Royal had waited like a perfect gentleman, as he was, till all were helped; but now he gravely poked his black muzzle into Winnie's hand in a manner that said as plainly as any words, "Give me a little cold pie, if you please." He had not to ask twice. Winnie gave him a great plateful of miscellaneous food, and a constant cry of, "Here, Royal! Royal!" kept him racing round the table-cloth. One little girl wished to be very polite, and as he was Winnie's dog thought it better to call him Master Royal. That made the others ashamed of their bad manners, but they soon corrected themselves, and from that day forth he was Master Royal to the followers.

At first there was not very much talking, for all were so hungry they were glad to eat. But when once the edge was taken off their appetites the Irish tongues got loose; and then they chattered, they laughed, they sang snatches of songs, they drank healths in water, and made mock speeches each more ludicrous than the last, till everybody was half incapacitated with laughter. Murtagh was the soul of the party. Nessa wondered where his words and ideas came from. Seated in state at the head of the table she was very gay and happy. She was unusually amused by this wild, merry crew, and such spirits as theirs were infectious.

The feast over, Royal was with much mock solemnity received into the tribe, a ceremony which he disrespectfully brought to an abrupt ending by knocking over four or five of his sponsors. They then divided into parties, and played robber games among the hills, till the fading light warned them that even the pleasantest of days will come to an end. The remains of the feast were divided between the followers. Tommie was yoked into the cart again, and his willing head turned homewards.

But even then the children were not tired. It was wonderful to see how they caracoled round the cart, and sang and laughed the whole way home; and when, finally, they drove up in state and deposited Nessa upon the hall door-steps, the last cheer they gave her was as hearty as any they had uttered that day.