"Where did you learn to draw so well?" asked Jasper, in admiration of the bold, accurate lines, and the graceful curves.
"In school, at Paris," said Adela, quietly.
Polly looked over Jasper's arm, and scanned the sketch. "I never saw anything so lovely!" she exclaimed. "And it's just alive! Isn't it, Jasper?"
"Yes, it is splendid," he said enthusiastically; "and that's the best part of it—it's alive, Polly, as you say."
"I'd give anything in all this world, Adela, if I could draw like that," mourned Polly.
"I'd rather play on the piano," said Adela, "than do all the drawing in the world. But I can't learn; the music master said there was something the matter with my ear, and I never could tell one note from another by the sound. I do so wish I could play on the piano, Polly Pepper!" she added discontentedly.
"Well, Jasper can do both,—play on the piano, and draw, too," said
Polly.
"I can't draw like this," said Jasper, holding the sketch off at arm's length to view it again. "I couldn't if I were to try a thousand years."
"Oh, Jasper!" exclaimed Polly, who couldn't bear to think there was anything that he could not do.
"Well, I can't," said Jasper.