"It's cooler outside," ventured Mark. "There isn't much difference," said Thornly, rising courteously. "I'm Cap'n Billy Morgan!" This statement appeared to interest Thornly immensely. "I'm glad to meet you," he answered. "Are ye a painter-man?" asked Billy. "I've been dubbed that occasionally." Thornly laughed. "What can I do for you?" "Did you ever have a--modil?" Mark broke in breathlessly, feeling he must help Billy out, no matter what his own feelings were. "I've even been guilty of that!" "Did ye ever have my Janet?" Poor Billy's trouble, knowing no restraint of city ways or roundabout methods, rushed forth sharply. Thornly changed color perceptibly. "Come in," he urged, "the glare is really too painful." The two awkwardly stepped inside. Then Mark's eyes fell upon the canvas. "Cap'n!" he groaned, "look at this!" The two men stood spellbound before the easel, and Thornly watched them curiously. "It's her!" muttered Billy, "it's her! Poor little thing! she's jest drifted without a hand upon the tiller." The visitors forgot Thornly. "I didn't think I had more'n the right t' watch, Cap'n." Mark's voice was full of tears as he said this. "Ye had the right t' shout out a call t' me, lad. You'd have done the like fur any little skiff you'd seen in danger." Then he turned upon Thornly. "What right hev ye got t' steal my gal's looks? An' what tricks hev ye used t' git 'em, an' her happiness 'long with 'em?" Thornly winced. "Her happiness?" he asked helplessly, not knowing what else to say. "Yes. Her happiness! Don't ye s'pose that I, what has watched her since she came int' port, watched her an' loved her, an' sot hopes on her, don't ye think I know the difference 'twixt her happiness an' the sham thing?" "Good Lord!" breathed Thornly, "are you speaking truth?" Billy drew himself up with a dignity Thornly shrank before. "Thar ain't anythin' but the truth good enough t' use, when we're talkin' of my little gal!" he said quietly. He felt no need of Mark, nor knowledge of city ways. Mark was still riveted before the picture. Slow tears were rolling down his twitching face. The calamity that had overtaken Janet was like death, and this lovely smiling face upon the canvas was but the dear memory of her! "I never meant to harm her," said Thornly presently. "I cannot hope that you will understand; it has only recently come to me, the understanding. I have always thought the artist in me had a right to seize and make my own all that my eye saw that was beautiful. Lately the man in me has uprisen and shown me that I have been a fool--a fool and a thief!" "That's what you are!" blubbered Mark, "that last's what you are! You've taken Janet's good name, you've taken her happiness--and you've taken her frum us!" Thornly's color rose, but a look at the speaker's distorted face hushed the angry words he was about to utter. He turned to Billy as to an equal.