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"Plunged into the waters of the lake, he did, as any son of Erin would and found the maid." But Joan's eyes were absently fixed upon the road again and Kenny abandoned his legend with a sigh until he bethought himself to use its climax in reproach. "And when Finn reappeared, he was an old, old man, as old as a man may feel when his lady's attention wanders."
As he picked up the will and put it in his pocket, Adam Craig, sinister and unassailable, seemed to mock him from the grave. His last trap! Almost Kenny could hear him chuckle: "Checkmate, Kenny, checkmate! And the game is won." How well he had known his opponent's excitable fancy! "Doctor," asked Kenny drearily, "why were all the books in the farmhouse in Adam's room?"
"The bricks are loose!" exclaimed Hughie. "Look here!" He rattled one with his finger. Kenny emitted a long low whistle of intense amazement. "Hughie, where's your knife?" he flung out wildly. "I think we're on the trail!" "The lamp's shaking!" warned Hannah. "Let me hold it." "Oh, my God!" gasped Hughie with the dot fever flaring in his honest eyes. "That ain't mortar. It's only ashes. Look!"
"I said," he bellowed through it, "that I've often wondered why all the books in the farmhouse are here upon your shelves." Adam sat up. "For God's sake, Kenny," he said. "Close the door. Where did you get that thing?" he demanded with a scowl. "It's Hughie's and the very sight of it was an inspiration." "Give it to me!" "On the contrary I intend to cure your deafness." Adam stared.
But his keen, intelligent eyes sought Doctor Cole with a furtive lifting of his brows and asked a question. "Not a sign," said the little doctor gladly. "If anything he's a shade too wide awake. And irritable. I've been setting his leg " Kenny wheeled fiercely. "His leg!" he said. "His leg!" "I'm sorry," stammered the doctor.
Patrick in unpagan zeal had chosen to kindle his fires in honor of St. John, he could. To Kenny the festival was still druidic. There was Samhain or summer ending, when the November wind speeded the waning season with a flurry of dead leaves; and to Kenny, Samhain came and drove him forth in the chill dusk to face another problem.
"Yes, I want to be a clown, too, and throw water over another clown, like I saw in a circus once!" "Well, you're not going to throw any water on me!" "Yes I can if Bunny Brown says so! It's his circus!" Tom White, Jimmie Kenny and Ned Johnson were talking together in one corner of the barn. Ned wanted to be a clown, and throw water on some one else.
"This plaster cast," he apologized, "is like a suit of armor. It bothers me." "Poor fellow! . . . Can you eat?" "Not yet. . . . Who's cooking?" "Sometimes Don; sometimes I unless the doctor sends me here. Once Kenny." Brian smiled. "You are very good," he said simply. Brian's skull was young and elastic. It saved him much, but Barrington lingered until the period of suspense was at an end.
I thought you were impartial." "You mean," said Garry keenly, "that when you rapped you'd been hypnotized by the justice of your own case and felt a little reckless." Kenny drew himself up splendidly and glared at Garry through a cloud of smoke. "Piffle!" said Garry. "No stately stuff for me, Kenny, please. It's late and I'm tired. I'll referee this thing in my own way.
"What an odd frail little tool, Margot!" "I made it myself," said Margot. "And now, cherie, if you don't run along to Madame Morny, Kenny will scold me." She delighted Madame Morny with her willingness to work. She delighted Kenny with her willingness to play. Nothing tired her.
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