SAMHAIN To Kenny in poetic mood the seasons were druidic.

There was May Eve with its Bel fires when summer peeped over the hilltops at the cattle driven through the sacred flames to protect them from disease.

There was Midsummer's Eve with more fires, and if St.Patrick in unpagan zeal had chosen to kindle his fires in honor of St.John, he could.

To Kenny the festival was still druidic.

There was Samhain or summer ending, when the November wind speeded the waning season with a flurry of dead leaves; and to Kenny, Samhain came and drove him forth in the chill dusk to face another problem.
He had come to the farm in blossom time and he had stared ahead to sanity--in September at the latest.