"Through the Singing Children Nessa walked."
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.