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Page 111
"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 willing. If you'd rather come back to the
studio and free-lance, I--I want you to know--" he gulped--"that
things are different. There's order there and the--the chairs are
cleared. Never a chair but what you can sit down on without staring
behind you. You wished that, Brian--"
Brian turned his head.
"Yes," he said. There were tears and laughter in his voice.
"The money and clothes I borrowed," went on Kenny fervidly, "are paid
back. The clothes are safe in a new chiffonier and here's the key. I
sealed it in an envelope and well I did. I was badly needin' some
things you had and Pietro went out and bought them for me. As for my
temper, it's a lot better. A lot! Sid marvels at it. I--I do myself.
It all comes from the hell up there on the ridge with Adam." He drew a
long breath. "I've a record of work that will fill you with pride.
And though I seem to have a lot of money, I haven't bought a foolish
thing since the corncrib. There's plebeian regularity enough in my
money affairs now, Brian, to please even you! Though I'm havin' a bit
of a struggle with my check book. You can see for yourself, can't you,
Brian, 'twould not be the disorderly Bohemia you seem to hate? 'Twould
not be hand-to-mouth. Mind, I'm not seekin' to persuade you. So help
me God, I--I want you to do just what you want to do yourself--"
"Kenny," said Brian dangerously, "if you go on one second more, you'll
have me sniffling--"
Horrified and guilty, Kenny bolted for the door, his hand clenched in
his hair.
"One thing more, Brian," he said, wheeling, "I--I've got to say it.
I've anchored that damned stick to the psaltery with a shoestring.
We--we couldn't lose it!"
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