Once again Bertram found his picture the cynosure of all admiring eyes, and himself the center of an enthusiastic group of friends and fellow-artists who vied with each other in hearty words of congratulation.

And when, later, the feared critics, whose names and opinions counted for so much in his world, had their say in the daily press and weekly reviews, Bertram knew how surely indeed he had won.

And when he read that "Henshaw's work shows now a peculiar strength, a sort of reserve power, as it were, which, beautiful as was his former work, it never showed before," he smiled grimly, and said to Billy: "I suppose, now, that was the fighting I did with my good left hand, eh, dear ?" But there was yet one more drop that was to make Bertram's cup of joy brim to overflowing.

It came just one month after the Exhibition in the shape of a terse dozen words from the doctor.

Bertram fairly flew home that day.