This view was new to the children. They were too firmly entrenched in their own opinion to be convinced in a moment, but their rights began somehow to seem to them small things after all. They tried to reproduce the arguments with which they had convinced themselves; but reasons, excellent before, sounded weak and empty now, and after a faint attempt to defend themselves they accepted Nessa's view.
"Well, we'll give it back to him to-morrow morning," said Murtagh, finally. "But if I live to be a hundred years old," he added, "I shall always hate him. He's spoiled every bit of our pleasure; it may be just, but he wouldn't have done it if he hadn't wanted to spite us for throwing the apples in the river."
"Did you throw apples in the river?" asked Nessa. "You see it is such a pity you are naughty. You vex Mr. Plunkett and he vexes you. Couldn't you try to be good?"
"No," said Murtagh, "I can't be good, because as soon as I do try, he does something that makes us bad again, worse than ever."
"There's one good thing," remarked Winnie. "He'll know now that we could have had the money if we had chosen to keep it."
Nessa said that she thought it was a great pity not to be friends with people. Then she said "Good night" to Murtagh, and under the shelter of her dressing-gown conveyed Winnie back to her little bed.
Murtagh and Winnie apparently broke to the others early next morning the news of the intended restitution, for when Nessa met them at the breakfast-table, Bobbo said to her good-humoredly:
"All right; I don't mind; I only said he shouldn't keep it, so I just took it to show him he shouldn't; this way will do just as well."
Rosie was the one who disapproved most highly, for she very much disliked the prospect of giving up their delightful birthday plan. Her anger was all directed against Mr. Plunkett. Since Nessa said it would be real stealing to keep the half-sovereign, she was willing that it should be given back. She had taken a great fancy to Nessa, and was anxious to stand well in her esteem. But as for Mr. Plunkett, no words could be bad enough for him, she thought. It was all humbug and nonsense about it being just. He was doing it to spite them and nothing else. So Rosie said to Mrs. Donegan, as the children dawdled through the kitchen after breakfast: