s, sir," she whispered.

At that moment Dickie Blue was the happiest man in the world. And he
ought to have been, too! Dang me if he shouldn't! And as for Peggy
Lacey, she was the happiest maid in the world, which is somewhat
surprising, I confess--never so happy as when, before she sought sleep
to escape the sweet agony of her joy, she flung the widow Nash's
wicked little box of rouge into the driving darkness and heard it
splash in the harbor below her chamber window.

* * * * *

III

THE ART OF TERRY LUTE

* * * * *

III

THE ART OF TERRY LUTE

When the _Stand By_ went down in a northeasterly gale off Dusty Reef
of the False Frenchman, the last example of the art of Terry Lute of
Out-of-the-Way Tickle perished with her. It was a great picture. This
is an amazing thing to say. It doubtless challenges a superior
incredulity. Yet the last example of the art of Terry Lute was a very
great picture. Incredible? Not at all. It is merely astonishing. Other
masters, and of all sorts, have emerged from obscure places. It is not
the less likely that Terry Lute was a master because he originated at
Out-of-the-Way Tickle of the Newfoundland north coast. Rather more so,
perhaps. At any rate, Terry Lute _was_ a master.

James Cobden saw the picture. He, too, was astounded. But--"It is the
work of a master," said he, instantly.

Of course the picture is gone; there is no other: Cobden's word for
its quality must be taken. But why not? Cobden's judgments are not
generally gainsaid; they prove themselves, and stand. And it is not
anywhere contended that Cobden is given to the encouragement of anaemic
aspiration. Cobden's errors, if any, have been of severity. It is
maintained by those who do not love him that he has laughed many a
promising youngster into a sour obscurity. And this may be true. A
niggard in respect to praise, a skeptic in respect to promise, he is
well known. But what he has commended has never failed of a good
measure of critical recognition in the end. And he has uncovered no
mares'-nests.

All this, however,--the matter of Cobden's authority,--is here a waste
discussion. If Cobden's judgments are in the main detestable, the tale
has no point for folk of the taste to hold against them; if they are
true and agreeable, it must then be believed upon his word that when
the _Stand By_ went down off Dusty Reef of the Fal