the wind playing upon the taut sinews made sounds low and soothing
enough to lull her to sleep. And Cull, coming up, marveled at her
slumber, heard the murmuring of the wind through the sinews and made
the first harp. Kenny liked the tale and he liked the way he told it.

Adam Craig nodded.

"Lies!" he said, springing the trap it had pleased him to bait with an
air of courtesy, "All lies."

Kenny flushed with annoyance. The sacrilege of doubt when the tale was
Irish jarred.

"Lies!" said Adam Craig again, "adapted centuries ago by some Irish
word-thief."

"You are pleased to be humorous," said Kenny, glancing coldly at his
host.

"I am pleased," said the old man insolently, "to be truthful, not being
Irish. Fair, Brown and Trembling!" he added with a sneer. "Word for
word, it's the tale of Cinderella."

"The pattern for Cinderella!" corrected Kenny with a shrug.

Adam Craig glanced at him with narrowed eyes.

"And Finn McCoul and the bathing queen. I can find you the German tale
of a stolen veil from which it's--borrowed."