Go on with the story." Somewhat nettled, Kenny obeyed.

Conscious, the minute he began, of a muffled whistle, he glanced sharply at his host and found his glance returned with a guileless air of inquiry.
"Adam," he said, "are you whistling ?" "My dear Kenny!" protested Adam.

"It's the wind.

I hear it myself." Somewhat suspicious, for he fancied now he read in the invalid's alertness a feline readiness to pounce, Kenny returned to the tale of the harper who proved the right of Ireland to lead the world.

This time the insolent whistle, louder and a shade defiant, convinced him that his listener's mood had changed.