Her uncle saw her half-movement, and said sadly, "Can you tell us anything of this matter, Winnie?"
Winnie bit her lips, and looked straight in front of her, but she only shook her head.
Cousin Jane's patience could bear no more.
"Really, John," she exclaimed, "I don't know how you can go on bearing with the sulkiness of those children. Make them tell what they know. It's plain that they are guilty, and if they have anything to say for themselves, let them say it."
An expression of annoyance passed quickly over Mr. Blair's countenance, but he replied very gently:
"You must let me manage this matter in my own way, Jane."
"Mr. Plunkett," he continued, as Cousin Jane relapsed into indignant silence, "tell us now, if you please, before Murtagh, what you have already told me of his behavior yesterday evening."
Mr. Plunkett gave a short, business-like account of what had happened in the barn-yard the evening before. It was perfectly accurate. He said that he regretted the blows which had been meant more for one of the ragamuffins than for Murtagh; and somehow even that, which every one felt Mr. Plunkett had no right to inflict, told against Murtagh, for it furnished an additional motive for his revenge. The dark red mark was plainly visible across his cheek, and it seemed, indeed, a blow which a high-spirited boy was not likely to have received quietly. Only one thing in the story was omitted. Mr. Plunkett had forgotten Pat O'Toole's threat.
"Can you deny any of this?" asked Mr. Blair, as Mr. Plunkett ceased.
"No," replied Murtagh; "it is all quite true."