l you have to bookkeep lies. I'm that truthful now
Sid worries a bit!"

Brian's amazed eyes twinkled.

"You delicious lunatic!" he said.

"I practiced," went on Kenny with his lips compressed. "I practiced
hard--up at the farm with Adam."

"Joan's told me you were there. I can't quite hitch things together
yet, but I will in time."

"A landslide of things seemed to happen the minute you went--"

"I always had a feeling," admitted Brian, "that if I didn't stick
around and keep an eye on you, a lot of things would happen."

"They did. They've been happenin' ever since."

Brian flushed and put out his hand.

"Kenny, surely you guessed. I was sorry--"

"Jewel machree, I was fair sick about the shotgun. And after you went
I was willing to be sorry about anything--to get you back."

"And Ann's statuette. Lord, I burn when I think of it."

"You couldn't be blamed for a bit of temper. You're Irish, lad, and an
O'Neill. 'Tis a splendid inheritance but volcanic too." He changed
color and began to roam around the room, his mind casting up a painful
memory.

"You'll never guess," he went on moodily, "what fell upon the head of
me after you went. John Whitaker came up and took a shot at me. And
Garry. And then after a while when I was quieter, old Adam, stirring
me up afresh. My ears are as used to the truth as my tongue."

"It's a darned shame!" said Brian warmly. Kenny sighed.

"Ah, Brian," he said wistfully, "I was needin' it all. You can't
conceive until you put your mind to it or--or write it down, what a
failure I've been--"

"Failure!"

"As a parent. Even my penance on the road was--was like the rest."

"Your _penance_!"

"I bought a corncrib and a mule," flung out Kenny, roaming turbulently
around the room, "and thrashed a farmer. And I hated the rain and the
smell of cheese and burned up the corn-crib--"

"Kenny, what are you talking about?"

Inexorably intent upon the easing of his conscience Kenny told the tale
of his penance with terrifying honesty and truth.

Brian listened and dared not smile.

"At first I--I hoped to find a clue," finished Kenny, wiping the sweat
from his forehead. "And then after I--I saw Joan I hoped I wouldn't.
You're not blamin' me, Brian?"

"Not a bit. I'd have lingered myself."

"The heart of you!" said Kenny, biting his lips. "I don't deserve it.
Lad, dear, the sunsets are past. I'm understandin'. And if you want
Whitaker's job, I--I'm wil