Chester climbed the long stairs to the top. From the western edge, he looked down and waved at Lucy, then hurriedly scanned the beautiful prospect about him. The wonderful stone then drew his attention. It is set in the parapet wall, being one of the under stones in the middle of the tower. This parapet does not form part of the wall, but is detached from it, being built out about two feet and supported by a sort of scaffolding brace of masonry. This leaves a space between the battlement and the wall, which in olden times, enabled the defenders to drop stones and other trifles on to the heads of assailants one hundred twenty feet below. Two iron bands now reach around the famous stone, spanning the open space, and fastened to the wall. The aspirant who wishes to kiss the stone, must grasp these irons, one in each hand, and hang on for dear life. As the stone is underneath the parapet, the feat of kissing it is not easy. In the first place, one must lie on one's back, then with head extended over the wall, the head must be bent down and back far enough to touch the lips to the stone. To perform the feat safely, there must be assistants at hand who must hold one's legs in steady grip, and others who must sit on the lower part of the body to assure the proper equilibrium. Being entirely alone, it is needless to say, Chester did not kiss the Blarney Stone. He was satisfied with reaching under and touching it with his hand. Then he returned to Lucy. "You did not kiss the stone," she immediately declared. "You know, don't you, that it takes two to kiss--the Blarney Stone?" "I've heard it so stated. I've never been up to it." The park around the castle is very inviting, especially on a fine, warm afternoon. There are big trees, grass, and neatly kept walks. Chester and Lucy sauntered under the trees. A tiny brook gurgled near by, the birds were singing. Lucy chattered merrily along, but Chester was not so talkative. She noticed his mood and asked why he was so silent. "I was thinking of that promise. I fear I am not doing right." "O, that reminds me--Father, of course could not--" "Could not what?" "Well, the night before he became so ill on the boat he told me he was going to release you from any promise not to meet me and talk religion to me." "Did he say that?" They paused in their walk. "Yes; and he meant it--he means it now, if he could but say as much." "I thank you for telling me * * * Let us sit down here on this rustic seat. Do you know, I believe your father has gotten over his first dislike for me." "O, yes, he has. I think he likes you very much." "I was not surprised at his actions when I told him I was a 'Mormon.' He can hardly be blamed, in view of the life-long training he has had. And then, knowing that you have been in danger from that source before made him over-sensitive on the point. I marvel now that he treats me so well."