detto was behind him. We were never far apart, I've
told you.

'"That is pig's work," says our Master. "Swine's work. You make any more
such things, even after your fine Court suppers, and you shall be sent
away."

'Benedetto licks his lips like a cat. "It is so bad then, Master?" he
says. "What a pity!"

'"Yes," says Torrigiano. "Scarcely you could do things so bad. I will
condescend to show."

'He talks to me then and there. No shouting, no swearing (it was too bad
for that); but good, memorable counsel, bitten in slowly. Then he sets
me to draft out a pair of iron gates, to take, as he said, the taste
of my naughty dolphins out of my mouth. Iron's sweet stuff if you don't
torture her, and hammered work is all pure, truthful line, with a reason
and a support for every curve and bar of it. A week at that settled
my stomach handsomely, and the Master let me put the work through the
smithy, where I sweated out more of my foolish pride.'

'Good stuff is good iron,' said Mr Springett. 'I done a pair of lodge
gates once in Eighteen hundred Sixty-three.'

'Oh, I forgot to say that Bob Brygandyne whipped away my draft of the
ship's scroll-work, and would not give it back to me to re-draw. He said
'twould do well enough. Howsoever, my lawful work kept me too busied to
remember him. Body o' me, but I worked that winter upon the gates and
the bronzes for the tomb as I'd never worked before! I was leaner than
a lath, but I lived--I lived then!' Hal looked at Mr Springett with his
wise, crinkled-up eyes, and the old man smiled back.

'Ouch!' Dan cried. He had been hollowing out the schooner's after-deck,
the little gouge had slipped and gashed the ball of his left thumb,--an
ugly, triangular tear.

'That came of not steadying your wrist,' said Hal calmly. 'Don't bleed
over the wood. Do your work with your heart's blood, but no need to let
it show.' He rose and peered into a corner of the loft.

Mr Springett had risen too, and swept down a ball of cobwebs from a
rafter.

'Clap that on,' was all he said, 'and put your handkerchief atop. 'Twill
cake over in a minute. It don't hurt now, do it?'

'No,' said Dan indignantly. 'You know it has happened lots of times.
I'll tie it up myself. Go on, sir.'

'And it'll happen hundreds of times more,' said Hal with a friendly nod
as he sat down again. But he did not go on till Dan's hand was tied up
properly. Then he said:

'One dark December day--too dark to judge colour--we w