Nessa went indoors on her return from the village, but they never went in till evening, and to-day of all days it was impossible to sit still.
Alas! their little active feet were always tripping into mischief. They took it into their heads to go and prepare the island for the singing meeting. Unfortunately, they came upon Bland driving a horse and cart through the river. The horse had refused to cross the bridge, which was without a parapet; and as the children came up they found that Bland had taken out the lading of the cart before driving through the water. Large baskets of apples stood ranged side by side upon the bridge.
"Ha, ha!" cried Bland, as he landed the cart safely and began to load it again. "We've conquered you at last, my young gentlemen. You'll have to do without apples now whether you like it or not. Every one in the garden was picked this morning by Mr. Plunkett's orders."
"I'm sure I don't care," replied Murtagh.
"Sour grapes, young gentleman!" replied Bland, chuckling. "I daresay you were on your way to the garden now, if the truth were known."
"We weren't anything of the sort, as it happens," said Bobbo.
"We'd made up our minds this very morning not to take any," added Rosie.
"Easy talking. Words don't cost much; but I'd have been sorry to trust you under a tree of ripe apples," returned Bland.
"Shut up your impudence," said Murtagh, "or I'll just turn one of these baskets into the river, to show you how little we care for your old garden stuff."
"Oh, ay. It's not so pleasant being circumvented. I don't wonder you don't like it. But here's an end of your apple-eating for this winter. In another hour every apple that was in the garden this morning will be safe in the apple-room, and the key in Mr. Plunkett's pocket."