Garry wheeled and found a wistful, boyish Kenny with his fingers in his hair.
"I'm no longer a failure as a parent?"
"No!" said Garry with decision.
"And God knows I haven't been a failure as a lover. I'm prayin' I shan't always be a failure as a painter. It's the one thing left. Somewhere in Ireland, Garry, nine silent fairies blow beneath a caldron. They know the secrets of the future. I'd like to be peepin'."
He was to know in time that the caldron held for him peace and big achievement.
"I wish I could help!" said Garry.
"Garry, could you—would you drive me home to-night?"
"Anything!"
"You'll not be mindin'?"
"No. It's better."