"The trees are not quite straight," she said, presently, "and oh, dear brother, the sky is not blue enough."
"It will all come right soon," he answered. "Will it be of any good?"
"Oh yes," she said, wondering that he should even ask, "it will make people happy to look at it. They will feel as if they were in the field."
"If I do it badly, will it make them unhappy?"
"Not if you do your very best," she answered; "for they will know how hard you have tried. Look up," she said suddenly, "look up at the light upon the hills," and they stood together looking at all he was trying to paint, at the trees and the field, at the deep shadows and the hills beyond, and the light that rested upon them.
"It is a beautiful world," the girl said. "It is a great honour to make things for it."
"It is a beautiful world," the boy echoed sadly. "It is a sin to disgrace it with things that are badly done."
"But you will do things well?"
"I get so tired," he said, "and long to leave off so much. What do you do when you want to do your best,—your very, very best?" he asked, suddenly.
"I think that I am doing it for the people I love," she answered. "It makes you very strong if you think of them; you can bear pain, and walk far, and do all manner of things, and you don't get tired so soon."