"Thank you," said Nessa, stooping to kiss the little brown forehead. "Yes, I should like some tea." And as the two children ran away to the kitchen she passed up the stairs.
A few minutes later they appeared in her room with their little tray. They had arranged it after their own fashion, with a white napkin and a tiny blue vase full of flowers. Winnie's cheeks were rosy with the making of toast, and while Nessa drank her tea and admired the flowers the two children watched her radiantly.
"We made it all ourselves," exclaimed Winnie, when the first cup was nearly finished. "Donnie wasn't there, but we knew the water was boiling, because the top of the kettle was bobbing up and down." Nessa asked for a second cup, and the delighted children were as happy as little kings because she found their tea so good.
CHAPTER XXII.
Mr. Plunkett meant what he had said to Nessa. Next day, therefore, he begged Mr. Blair to continue his investigation. Poor Mr. Blair, who had completely accepted Nessa's view, took no longer the slightest interest in the affair. Provided it was not Murtagh, he did not care who was guilty. All he desired was to be left in peace.
However, since Mr. Plunkett was not satisfied, and had a strong will to which Mr. Blair was accustomed to yield, there was nothing but to send for Pat O'Toole and sift the matter to the bottom. Mr. Plunkett sent a message to him to appear; Mrs. O'Toole put off the inevitable announcement of his flight to the last moment; and it was not till every one else was assembled in the study that it became known that he was gone.
The news was received by Mr. Blair and Nessa as a simple proof of Murtagh's innocence. But Mr. Plunkett held his own opinion much too firmly to be easily shaken in it.
He believed that his wife had seen Murtagh at the fire, and Murtagh's innocence was not established. The two boys were known to be friends, and what was more likely than that Murtagh should have chosen Pat as an accomplice? It was evident that they had some secret together, since Murtagh's first action after the news of the fire had been made known was to run away to the O'Tooles' cottage.
When the news of Pat's flight had arrived Murtagh had felt a grim satisfaction at the prospect of Mr. Plunkett's discomfiture, thinking as Nessa did that his own innocence was now fully established. Now as he stood listening to the array of evidence brought forward to prove his guilt, a turmoil of bitter indignation raged within him, and every bit of sorrow for his own fault was swallowed up in angry rebellion against what seemed to him wilful injustice. Stung to the quick, he took a proud, unreasoning determination to say not one word in his own defense, and after the first stormy flash that overspread his countenance, he stood with eyes cast down and a white obdurate face that defied all questioning.