hair stood by the fireplace. Kenny with a shudder moved it to a
distant corner. He could not bear the memory of that last night when
he had barred the old man out from his joyous mood of sparkle, telling
Samhain tales of the fairies and the dead.

After all, had he meant always to be cruel, that keen-eyed old man with
his keener wits? What conflict of spirit and body had lain behind his
fretful fits of temper?

Kenny turned, blinking, from the wheelchair, and his glance, blurred a
little, found the old man's glasses on the mantel. The shabby case,
left behind while Adam faced the great adventure, was oddly pitiful.
Kenny cleared his throat. He had his moment of rebellion then at the
inevitability of death and doom. It behooved all of us, he remembered
with set lips, to be kind and mend quarrels while the sap of life ran
in our veins, strong and full.

The sight of the key upon the table sent his thoughts flying off at a
tangent. A miser's will! . . . Mother of Men! It was a thing of
morbid mystery and romance!

Kenny sat down in wild excitement and opened the drawer.

He saw at once an orderly packet of papers. The will, which barely a
month ago, Hughie said, he and Hannah had signed without reading, lay
uppermost. Adam had written his will himself, disdaining lawyers.

Kenny opened the will and began to read. He read as he always read in
moments of excitement, blurring through with a glance. But though the
old man's writing was distinct and almost insolent in its boldness, the
portent of the written words did not filter through at once to his
understanding. He frowned and read again. Once more he read, pacing
the floor with unquiet eyes. A number of things were becoming clearer.
There was in the first place no mention of the fugitive nephew. Joan
was the sole heir. There was one executor. That executor was Joan's
guardian and Joan's guardian was one--Kennicott O'Neill! Kenny read
the name aloud as if it belonged to someone else. Joan's guardian!
Again he read the clause aloud with an exclamation of doubt and
unbelief. It lay there definite and clear. He was the sole executor
of Adam's will and he was Joan's guardian. Startled he read the rest.

"To Kennicott O'Neill, my friend, my signet ring . . . to my niece,
Joan West, from whom, no matter what the circumstances, I have never
had an unkind word, I bequeath the Craig farm and all the land and all
the rest, residue and remainder of my we