e came?"

"Yes, suh, me and my husban' was both here. He ain't home to-day. We
was takin' care of de place when it ketched fire--dat's how we come to
save dis cabin. Dere warn't no water and nobody to help, and dis was
all we could do."

Again Adam bowed his head. Was there nothing left?--nothing to recall
even her smile? Then slowly, as if he feared the result:

"Was anything saved--any furniture, or--pictures--or----"

"Nothin' but dem two chairs inside dar--and dat bench what you's
settin' on. Dey was on de lawn and dat's how we come to git 'em."

For some minutes Adam sat looking into the ground at his feet, his
eyes blurred with tears.

"Thank you," was all he said.

And once more he turned his horse's head towards the North.

V

A thin, shabby little man, with stooping shoulders, hooked nose and
velvet tread, stood before the card rack in the lower corridor of the
old studio building on Tenth Street. He was scanning the names,
beginning at the top floor and going down to the basement. Suddenly
his eyes glistened:

"Second floor," he whispered to himself. "Yes, of course; I knew it
all the time--second floor," and "second floor" he kept repeating as
he helped his small body up the steps by means of the hand-rail.

The little man earned his living by obtaining orders for portraits
which he turned over to the several painters, fitting the price to
their reputations, and by hunting up undoubted old masters, rare
porcelains, curios and miniatures for collectors. He was reasonably
honest, and his patrons followed his advice whenever it was backed by
somebody they knew. He was also cunning--softly, persuasively
cunning--with all the patience and philosophy of his race.

On this morning the little man had a Gilbert Stuart for sale, and what
was more to the point he had a customer for the masterpiece: Morlon,
the collector, of unlimited means and limited wall space, would buy it
provided Adam Gregg, the distinguished portrait painter, Member of
the International Jury, Commander of the Legion of Honor, Hors
Concours in Paris and Munich, etc., etc., would pronounce it genuine.

The distinguished painter never hesitated to give his services in
settling such matters. He delighted in doing it. Just as he always
delighted in criticising the work of any young student who came to him
for counsel--a habit he had learned in his life abroad--and always
with a hand on the boy's shoulder and a twinkle in his bro