"Painting was his talent," Mrs. Maple remarked quietly.
"Then I suppose God gave it to him," Bessie said thoughtfully. "It wouldn't have been right if he had not been an artist, would it, Granfer?"
"What do you mean, child?"
"I think I understand," Mrs. Maple interposed, seeing her little daughter hardly knew how to explain. "You mean that if your uncle David had not used the talent God had given him, he would have been like the man in the parable who hid his talent in the earth!"
"Yes," Bessie said eagerly, "he ought to have used it, and instead he put it away so that it was no good to any one!"
Mrs. Maple glanced at her father somewhat anxiously. He was looking at Bessie attentively and gravely, but not as though he was angry.
"So you think my son was perfectly right in disobeying me," he said. "I wanted him to be a farmer, and he would not!"
"He knew he could never be a good farmer," Mrs. Maple put in quietly. "We must be just, father!"
"Ay; but I don't forget how he defied me."
"What became of him?" asked Nellie. "Do you think he has become rich, Granfer?"