"Oh, Murtagh!" exclaimed Rosie. "You won't be able to do that. You know she's grown up, and she would never promise that."
"Yes, but you don't know how I'm going to do it," returned Murtagh, triumphantly. "After I've put on the ribbon I'll take up the shamrock wreath, and say: 'Kneel down, and promise to hate the Agents, and defend your tribe against them.' She won't know, you see, about Mr. Plunkett being an Agent; she'll only know about them being something very bad, and so she'll say, 'Yes.'"
"Then she'll be bound to help us when we get into scrapes with him; won't she?" asked Bobbo.
"Of course she will," returned Murtagh. "She'll be as much one of the tribe as you are, then."
"Oh, I say, Myrrh," cried Winnie, clapping her hands, "it's perfectly delicious. And look here, Myrrh, you must get a string for the violin with sixpence of your birthday money, and we'll teach all the children to sing some songs—'The Wearing of the Green,' and 'The Shan Van Vaugh,' and—"
"Yes," said Murtagh, "but I haven't told you yet what we're going to do with the rest of the money. We'll buy buns and things for the followers to eat, and Donnie'll give us a lot of tea, so they'll have a kind of school-feast after the ceremony; because, you know, they'll be awfully hungry, and they will be so pleased.
"Isn't papa a dear old blessing of a father, remembering about my birthday all that way off, and sending me half a sovereign?" exclaimed Murtagh, gratefully pulling his letter out of his pocket and looking at it. "I never knew any one like him in all my life, he does think about things so. I wonder if he knew what a lot of fun we should have with it!"
"Oh, and I'll tell you what we must do, Myrrh!" exclaimed Winnie. "Every one of the followers must have a large green branch in his hand, like Birnam wood in the theatre. You remember about Macbeth in the theatre," she explained, seeing Rosie looked puzzled.
"Oh, yes, of course," replied Rosie, who didn't remember a bit. "We'll get a lot of apples for the feast. They'll be nearly as great a treat as cakes for the followers, because they never have any."
"Yes, yes," cried Bobbo. But Murtagh objected.