and
uncertainty and--chains--of that at least I am sure."

"That," said Joan, "I like."

Mingled inextricably with this new fervor in his soul for truth, was
the memory of the inspirational stage mother. The idle claim bothered
him more and more. But there he was never brave enough to tell the
truth.

Well, it was a queer world and he--Kennicott O'Neill--was thrall to a
pitiful old fiend with the soul of a Caliban. He was unspeakably
grateful for the relief of the hours when, with his conscience up in
arms, he could talk to Joan of Brian and ease his misdeeds of the past
by praise and appreciation.

A jewel of a lad! Everybody loved his humor, his compassion and his
common sense.

CHAPTER XIV

IN SOMEBODY'S BOAT

The moon came silver in the valley and mingled with shadow among the
trees. Owl's-light was nowhere, Kenny said, and the pines stood like
shaggy druids in the silver dusk. The twilight of the moon he called
it. Restless and poetic he begged Joan to help him find the lake down
yonder in the valley. It was gleaming, to his fancy, with fairies'
fire.

They found the lake and somebody's boat. Both were in a lonely glen.
Kenny unwillingly conceded the existence of somebody with a claim upon
the boat stronger than his own.

"But," he went on with an air of inspiration, "somebody is in the world
or he wouldn't be somebody; and the world's my friend. Therefore by
moon-mad deduction somebody's my friend and I may take his boat."

He released the painter, smiling up into Joan's face.

"Beside," he added, "he's either a young dub who doesn't know the moon
is shining or an old cynic who doesn't care."

"Kenny!" said Joan, somewhat shocked by his inconsequent habits of
acquirement. "I'm quite sure we shouldn't."

"Everything in the world you want to do," reminded Kenny, "you
shouldn't. And everything in the world you shouldn't, you want to do!"

He flung his cigarette at a frog.

"The only thing to smoke on such a lake," he said, "is a fairy's pipe.
Come, jewel machree, happiness is the aim of life. And my happiness
for the moment, is to glide forth upon the bosom of that lake with you.
Look, you can even see the gleam of silver shoes where the fairies
dance upon the ripples."

He was indeed moon-mad in mood and irresistible. Joan smiled
compassionately at the pleading of his eyes.

"But, Kenny," she said, holding back, "the aim of life isn't just
happiness. That might be very d