"No," he said decidedly, poking his letter into his pocket again. "We won't."
"Hullo!" remarked Bobbo. "Why not?"
"Well," said Murtagh, looking at Winnie in hopes of support, "I don't want to have anything wrong at all in this plan. It's just to be a bit of fun."
"Oh, stuff!" said Rosie. "Apples are nothing."
"Yes, but," replied Murtagh, "papa gave us the money, and the grown-up people would all say we oughtn't to take them, so I vote we leave the things alone. He's sure to make it an excuse for talking to us."
It was Murtagh's plan, and Murtagh's birthday, so he had a right to decide. But when the question of the apples was settled a thousand other questions arose, and they were far from being all decided when the second dinner-bell summoned the children to the house.
But the village children had to be made acquainted as soon as possible with the fact that their services would be required, and as the tribe that the children were so fond of talking about consisted exclusively of their five selves, they felt that there was some difficulty about calling together the honorary members upon whom they had so recently conferred the rank and title of followers.
However, there was Pat O'Toole, a young friend and favorite of Murtagh's, to whom they had once confided their notion of enrolling themselves into a tribe, and there was Theresa Curran, who might fairly now be said to belong to it, and with these two to help they would easily be able to organize their festival.
It was all even more easy to arrange than the children had expected. Pat and Theresa charged themselves with collecting the "followers," and Murtagh gleefully gave orders that they were to assemble that very afternoon for a first singing practice on one of the little islands.
The children came dancing home, elated and happy. What a pity all days were not like this day! Everything went well, and they felt so good and bright as they raced and capered about the lawns.