"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 yon 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 hands. "I can't find words to
express my gratitude and admiration--"
"Don't worry yourself about that," answered Mat; "I don't suppose I
should understand you if you _could_ find 'em. If you want the picter
put up again, I'll do it. And if you want the carpenter's muddle head
punched, who put it up before, I shouldn't much mind doing that
either," added Mat, looking at the hole from which the clamp had been
torn with an expression of the profoundest workmanlike disgust.
A new commotion in the room--near the door this time--prevented Mr.
Blyth from giving an immediate answer to the two friendly propositions
just submitted to him.
At the first alarm of danger, all the ladies--headed by the Dowager
Countess, in whom the instinct of self-preservation was largely
developed--had got as far away as they could from the falling picture,
before they ventured to look round at the process by which it was at
last safely landed on the floor.
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