When the school closed for the day, Whistler proceeded to the place appointed, but not without some unpleasant apprehensions, arising from the imperfect lesson referred to. His fears were dispelled, however, when the teacher, pointing him to a seat, remarked very pleasantly:
“William, you are a pretty good draughtsman, and I’ve been thinking that perhaps I could get you to do a small job for me.”
“I should be happy to,” replied Whistler.
“Do you suppose,” continued the teacher, taking a couple of pictures from his desk, “that you could make a large copy, in outline, of each of these figures?”
Whistler looked at the engravings a moment, and replied, with some hesitation:
“I could copy them better on the same scale they are there.”
“I know you could,” continued the teacher; “but that will not answer my purpose. I want them to illustrate some remarks I wish to make to the school, and they must be large enough to be seen across the school-room. I have no time, just now, to copy them myself, and it occurred to me that perhaps you would like to try your hand at it. You will find it somewhat difficult, I suppose; but it will be a good exercise for you, even if you should not succeed very well.”
Whistler readily consented to undertake the job, and his teacher furnished him with some large sheets of drawing paper, and gave him such directions in regard to the work as he deemed necessary.
Whistler now hurried home, where he found Clinton, who was so exhausted by his forenoon’s tramp that he was glad to remain in the house the rest of the day. With his characteristic dread of idleness, however, he was busy at work with his pocket-knife, whittling out a puzzle for Ettie. It was nearly completed. It consisted of a thin piece of wood, in which three holes were cut,—one square, one round, and one triangular. The holes were all of the same height and width. The puzzle consisted in shaping a piece of wood so that it would stop up either of these holes. To do this, he first made a square block,—a perfect cube. This, of course, stopped up the square hole. He next rounded this into a cylinder, so that it just fitted the circular hole, while by turning it the right way, it would still answer to fill up the square one. He now sharpened one end of this cylinder, until he had made a perfect triangle, or wedge. This fitted snugly into the remaining hole, while enough of the original form of the block remained to fill the other two holes.
As soon as the puzzle was finished, Whistler went up to his chamber, and began one of the drawings he had engaged to make. His cousin watched his operations with interest, but was unable to render him any assistance. Indeed, this hardly seemed necessary, for the swelling outline grew quite perceptibly under Whistler’s pencil; and, although he did not get along without a frequent recourse to the India-rubber, his success was quite equal to his own anticipations. He had drawn maps on both an enlarged and a reduced scale from the original, but he had never before attempted to do either with the human figure, which is far more difficult. He determined to try hard for success, however; and the somewhat doubtful manner in which his teacher spoke of his ability to execute the drawings, seemed rather to stimulate than discourage him. This was precisely what the teacher intended to do. He knew that the task was a difficult one, though not beyond Whistler’s ability. He knew, moreover, that if he had told his pupil it was easy, the latter would scarcely have believed him, and would, perhaps, have been disheartened by the first difficulty; whereas, by taking the other course, the boy’s ambition and spirit were more fully aroused, and he was prepared for a strong and patient effort.