"What's disturbed?" said Patsy.
Her back stiffened. "Your fellow-countrymen were in a wicked state of rebellion against the powers ordained by God," she said.
"'Deed, an' who wouldn't fight the polis?" said Patsy. "Ye should 'a' seen the gran' fight we had last week on the twelfth."
"I understood that everything was quiet," Aunt Charlotte murmured.
"Lull was prayin' night an' day for ye to come. She was clean dimented for the want of ye," Jane went on, hoping Aunt Charlotte would explain. But Aunt Charlotte did nothing of the kind.
"We will not discuss the matter," she said; "I have told you it was impossible for me to come."
"I'm tellin' ye it got ye an ill name about the place," said Honeybird, looking up from her porridge; "there's many's a one has it agin ye to this day."
The children looked at each other in surprise. Honeybird had a way of repeating things she had picked up; but only Jane knew where she could have heard this, and a kick from Jane told her to be quiet. Aunt Charlotte's knife and fork dropped with a clatter on her plate. Her face was white as chalk. For a minute no one spoke. Aunt Charlotte drank some coffee, and shut her eyes. The children thought she had forgotten to say her grace till now; they went on with their breakfast, and in a few minutes she spoke again.
"I suppose you all like toys," she said.
The three younger ones brightened up.