d since leaving home, he was for a
moment greatly puzzled to account for his surroundings. His bed had
been made down in the exhibition hall on two benches drawn close
together, and as he awoke, he found himself staring at a most
marvellous painting that occupied the full height and nearly the entire
width of the stage at the farther end of the hall. It was a lurid
scene, but so filled with black shadows that to a vivid imagination it
might represent any one of many things. While the boy was wondering if
the young woman in yellow who appeared in the upper corner of the
picture, with outstretched arms and dishevelled hair, was about to
commit suicide by flinging herself from the second story of the
factory, and only hesitated for fear of crushing the badly frightened
young man in red who from the street below had evidently just
discovered his peril, a door opened, and his host of the evening before
tiptoed into the room.

The expression "tiptoed" is here used to indicate the extreme caution
of Cap'n Cod's entrance, and his evident desire to effect it as
noiselessly as possible. As he could only tiptoe on one foot, however,
and had neglected to muffle the iron-shod peg that served him in place
of the other, his progress was attended with more than its usual amount
of noise. He appeared relieved to find Winn awake, and advancing with
a cordial greeting, he laid the boy's own clothing, now cleaned and
dried, within his reach. "I should have sent Solon in with these," he
explained, "but for fear he might make a noise that would rouse you,
and I noticed last evening that you were sadly in need of sleep. So,
if you had not been awake, I should have stolen away as noiselessly as
I entered, and left you to have your nap out. Now, however, I think
you had better come to breakfast, for Sabella and I finished ours some
time ago."

"Thank you, sir," said Winn. "I will be out in half a minute; but will
you please explain that painting? I have been studying it ever since I
woke."

"That," replied the Captain, with an accent of honest pride, "is what I
consider one of my _chef-dovers_. I term it a 'Shakespearian
composite.' In order to please the tastes of certain audiences, I
shall describe it as the balcony scene between Romeo and Juliet. Yon
may note Romeo's mandolin lying at his feet, while over the whole falls
the melancholy light of a full moon rising behind the palace. To suit
a less-intelligent class, it would