? The whole club's buzzing over
your tantrums. There's been some talk of chaining you to an easel with
a brush in your hand for your own good."

Kenny as usual consigned the club to Gehenna. Nevertheless, as Garry
saw, he winced. Very well, he would work, furiously, as only he knew
how to work and when he had scored another brilliant success--

Fate intervened. To his intense excitement Kenny was summoned for jury
duty. He managed after much difficulty to place the blame of this too
at Brian's door. Brian, he remembered, had flirted with the daughter
of an uptown judge. Likely he had boasted about his father's
versatility.

Inevitably on the morning there was civic need of him at court, Kenny
awoke with a fever for work, shocked at his record of indolence. Garry
found him in a painter's smock, conspicuously busy with a yard-stick
and crayon. Everything in the studio on rollers had been rearranged.
A chafing dish of coffee, sufficient to stimulate him through a day of
fearful labor, stood upon a table beside a supply of cigarettes.

"Now, Kenny," said Garry, who was finding his responsibilities in
Brian's absence more or less complex, "you know hanged well you have
that jury thing on this morning. I'm going with you."

Kenny filled a battered tin-cup with something he had to sniff for
purposes of identity, unearthed a number of brushes and defiantly
polished a palette with a wad of cheesecloth.

"I'll be damned if I go!" he bristled. "I'm too busy."

Garry looked directly at him and compelled a slight faltering of his
gaze.

"It's the one day I've felt like work," blustered Kenny, squaring off
his canvas. "You spoke of work, didn't you? And a fool of an English
squire who ate goose? Let the idle rich sit around in squads and swear
they don't read the newspapers. I do. Me on a jury! My dear Garry!
I can't even sit still in my own studio. You know that yourself."

Nevertheless after a heated argument he went wearily with Garry in a
taxi, particularly individualistic in his attire. And he told the
judge in a richer brogue than usual that he was a painter subject to
irresistible fits of dreaminess and must be excused. Garry, aghast,
stared at the judge and the judge, with peculiar interest stared at the
delinquent and excused him.

"Fortunately," Garry told him later, "your civic duties haven't spoiled
your day."

Kenny merely glanced at him with a gentle air of patience. He would
like to