Gerty made an admiring survey of the bounty of the patrons of the Blackhampton Rose Growers' Association. "And here, I see, is the President's special prize." She had kept in reserve her appreciation of this _chef d'oeuvre_ of public munificence, a much beribboned silver gilt goblet to which a card was attached, "President's Special Prize for Rose of Purest Color. Donor Alderman Munt J.P." It was the first thing her eye had lit on, but she had worked up to it slowly, via the lesser gifts of lesser men, so that anything in the nature of anticlimax might be avoided. "Josiah, tell me, who is the fortunate winner?" The archness of the tone verged upon coquetry. "Look and see, my gel." The response was unexpectedly gruff. But, as soon as Gerty had looked and seen, the reason for the President's austerity grew clear. On a second card, smaller but beribboned like the first, was inscribed in a fair clerkly hand, "Presented to Mr. W. Hollis for Exhibit 16." X Had a pin fallen in the tent at that moment, any one of those three people might have expected to hear it do so. Gerty was too wise to ask why the husband of the outcast Melia had come to enjoy the special gift of his father-in-law; Maria simply dare not. In truth it was an odd story. Josiah did his best to put a gloss on an incredible fact of which he was rather ashamed; it looked so much like moral weakness, a public giving in; but, as he informed Gerty with a half apologetic air, Jannock was Jannock. In other words, fair play in the eyes of honest men was a jewel. There could be no question that, in point of color, the fairest bloom sent in was Exhibit Sixteen. It was a rose of such a dazzling snowy whiteness that it had caught and held the expert eye of the President at the morning inspection. "An easy winner, Jennings," he had said, as soon as he had seen it, "Nothing to put beside it, my boy." The astute Jennings, a professional nurseryman along The Rise, made no comment. He had taken the trouble to find out the name of the grower before bringing a mature judgment to bear on the fruits of his craft. "Sound" criticism is always a priori. Critics who value their reputation are careful not to pronounce an opinion on any work of art until they know who has produced it. Otherwise mistakes are apt to occur. None knew better than Jennings that the grower of Exhibit Sixteen could not hope to receive the President's prize; indeed Jennings was amazed at the little tick's impudence in daring to compete at all for his father-in-law's silver gilt goblet. It was an act of bravado. Jennings, therefore, shook his head coldly. He declined to show enthusiasm in the presence of what to the unsuspecting eye of the President was an almost too obvious masterpiece. "All over a winner, Jennings, that is." Jennings shook the sober head of a professional expert. "To me," he said, "Twenty-one 'as more quality."