e frame-lines of "Columbus" were attached, had
been carelessly driven into a part of the wall that was not strong
enough to hold it against the downward stress of the heavy frame. Little
warning driblets of loosened plaster had been trickling down rapidly
behind the canvas; but nobody heard them fall in the general buzz of
talking; and nobody noticed the thin, fine crack above the iron clamp,
which was now lengthening stealthily minute by minute.

"Just let me by, will you?" said Mat quietly to some of his neighbors.
"I want to stop those flying women and the man in the crank ship from
coming down by the long run."

Dozens of alarmed ladies and gentlemen started up from their chairs.
Mat pushed through them unceremoniously; and was indebted to his want of
politeness for being in time to save the picture. With a grating crack,
and an accompanying descent of a perfect slab of plaster, the loose
clamp came clean out of the wall, just as Mat seized the unsupported end
and side of the frame in his sturdy hands, and so prevented the picture
from taking the fatal swing downwards, which would have infallibly
torn it from the remaining fastening, and precipitated it on the chairs
beneath.

A prodigious confusion and clamoring of tongues ensued; Mr. Blyth being
louder, wilder, and more utterly useless in the present emergency than
any of his neighbors. Mat, cool as ever, kept his hold of the picture;
and, taking no notice of the confused advice and cumbersome help offered
to him, called to Zack to fetch a ladder, or, failing that, to "get a
hoist" on some chairs, and cut the rope from the clamp that remained
firm. Wooden steps, as young Thorpe knew, were usually kept in the
painting-room. Where had they been removed to now? Mr. Blyth's memory
was lost altogether in his excitement. Zack made a speculative dash
at the flowing draperies which concealed the lumber in one corner, and
dragged out the steps in triumph.

"All right; take your time, young 'un: there's a knife in my left-hand
breeches' pocket," said Mat. "Now then, cut away at that bit of
rope's-end, and hold on tight at top, while I lower away at bottom.
Steady! Take it easy, and--there you are!" With which words, the
guardian genius left Art-Mystic resting safely on the floor, and began
to shake his coattails free of the plaster that had dropped on them.

"My dear sir! you have saved the finest picture I ever painted," cried
Valentine, warmly seizing him by both han