Kenny by Leona Dalrymple


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Page 98

Frantic, Kenny pushed back his plate and began to stride around.

"Sit down," said Ann. "You're making everybody nervous. Of course you
don't blame Joan. And of course you can't blame--"

"I'm not blaming anybody," sputtered Kenny. "That club is a hot-bed of
shallow-minded, impressionable, fickle-minded boobs. I can see plainly
that we'll have to be married to-day. To-morrow at the latest."

"Kenny, please!" said Joan and the conflict began.

Finding the year still strongly in her mind, he surrendered with a
sigh, hurt and unhappy, remembering his vow that Joan's happiness
should be the religion of his love.

"Oh, you dear foolish people!" cried Ann in despair. "Why don't you
announce your engagement in the Times and discourage the line once and
for all?"

"Of course!" said Kenny and looked at Joan.

"I shouldn't mind at all," said Joan, coloring.

Whereat Kenny called up the Times office, and the Holbein Club went mad
with delight. Jan, without meaning to, got very drunk and shocked
himself, and Margot made the ring. She did not know why Kenny wanted
the golden circlet barred crosswise like a frail ladder. Nor why he
insisted upon a cluster of wistaria set in amethysts.

Even then misgivings sent him to Ann in a panic of conscience.

"Am I ungenerous?" he demanded. "Perhaps Joan should have had a year
of utter freedom. You know what I mean, Ann. To come and go as she
pleases and with whom she pleases. She's so young." He flushed.

"Joan wouldn't have it different," said Ann, touched by the boyish
wistfulness of his eyes. "She clings to you. And she's as shy and
unspoiled as the day you brought her here. This flurry of admiration
to her means nothing at all. She's unhappy with strangers."

Kenny knew it was true and marveled.

"I would like to be generous," he admitted with an effort. "But I
can't. It's the simple truth, Ann, I can't. Even the thought of her
liking other men--bothers me."

December was fated to hold for him another startling anticlimax. It
came one snowy morning when he had slept even later than usual,
dreaming of an iridescent balloon that climbed higher and higher with
Joan peeping radiantly over the edge until at the peal of the telephone
bell it disappeared entirely.

Joan's voice instantly dispelled his irritation.

"Mavourneen!" he exclaimed. "Up already! And you danced half the
night."

"It's eleven o'clock," said Joan. "Besides, I couldn't sleep. I've
been thinking. Remember, Kenny, when you read the will and I said that
Donald should have the farm?"

"Yes," said Kenny, somewhat mystified. "I remember."

"If he's going to study and work his way through college, I don't think
he'd want it, do you?"

"No, dear, I doubt if he would. What's in your mind, girleen?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you think so too! Kenny--"

"Yes?"

"Do you know Jan's cousin, the pretty girl who's a model? I know that
doesn't sound at all as if it had anything to do with the farm but it
has. Jan's cousin said--I hardly know how to tell you, Kenny. I don't
think I like telephones. If I could see your face--"

"I'm wearing my guardian's face!"

"Oh!"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 13th Feb 2026, 6:28