"Ellen," said he, in his usual manner "I want you to do something for me."
She waited eagerly to hear what; but, instead of telling her, he took a piece of drawing-paper, and began to sketch something. Ellen stood by, wondering and impatient to the last degree; not caring, however, to show her impatience, though her very feet were twitching to run back to her companions.
"Ellen," said John, as he finished the old stump of a tree, with one branch left on it, and a little bit of ground at the bottom, "did you ever try your hand at drawing?"
"No," said Ellen.
"Then sit down here," said he, rising from his chair, "and let me see what you can make of that."
"But I don't know how," said Ellen.
"I will teach you. There is a piece of paper, and this pencil is sharp enough. Is that chair too low for you?"
He placed another, and with extreme unwillingness and some displeasure, Ellen sat down. It was on her tongue to ask if another time would not do, but somehow she could not get the words out. John showed her how to hold her pencil, how to place her paper, where to begin, and how to go on; and then went to the other end of the room, and took up his walk again. Ellen at first felt more inclined to drive her pencil through the paper than to make quiet marks upon it. However, necessity was upon her. She began her work; and once fairly begun, it grew delightfully interesting. Her vexation went off entirely; she forgot Margaret and her story; the wrinkles on the old trunk smoothed those on her brow; and those troublesome leaves at the branch end brushed away all thoughts of everything else. Her cheeks were burning with intense interest, when the library door burst open, and the whole troop of children rushed in; they wanted Ellen for a round game in which all their number were needed; she must come directly.
"I can't come just yet," said she; "I must finish this first."
"Afterwards will do just as well," said George; "come,
Ellen, do! you can finish it afterwards."