“Now, isn't that illigant?” exclaimed Mrs. Donovan, admiringly, taking the picture and gazing at it with rapt admiration. “Who showed you how to do it?”
“Paul bought me a book, and I copied it out of that.”
“You're a rale genius. Maybe you'll make pictures some time like them we have in the church, of the Blessed Virgin and the Saints. Do you think you could draw me, now?” she asked, with curiosity.
“I haven't got a piece of paper big enough,” said Jimmy, slyly.
“Ah, it's pokin' fun at me, ye are,” said Mrs. Donovan, good-humoredly. “Just like my Pat; he run into the room yesterday sayin', 'Mother, there's great news. Barnum's fat woman is dead, and he's comin' afther you this afternoon. He'll pay you ten dollars a week and board.' 'Whist, ye spalpeen!' said I; 'is it makin' fun of your poor mother, ye are?' but I couldn't help laughing at the impertinence of the boy. But I must be goin'.”
“Thank you for your kind offer, Mrs. Donovan. Jimmy shall go to your room for the sewing.”
“There's no hurry about that,” said Mrs. Donovan. “I'll jist bring it in meself when it's ready.”
“She is very kind,” said Mrs. Hoffman, when Bridget Donovan had gone. “I shall be glad to have her wash. I am apt to feel weak after it. What are you going to do this afternoon, Paul?”
“I'll try to sell out the rest of my stock of packages. Perhaps I shan't succeed, but I'll do my best. Shall you have another picture to show me when I come back tonight, Jimmy?”
“Yes, Paul; I love to draw. I'm going to try this castle.”