How
pretty the baby was! He began to draw. The baby smiled but did not
wake up.
[Illustration]
As often as he touched the charcoal to the smooth board, the picture
grew. Here was her round head, covered with pretty curls. Here was her
mouth. Here were her eyes, and here her dainty ears. Here was her fat
little neck. Here were her wonderful hands.
So busy was he with the drawing that he did not think of anything else.
He heard neither the clock nor the birds. He did not even hear his
mother's footsteps as she came into the room. He did not hear her soft
breathing as she stood over him and watched him finish the wonderful
drawing. "O Benjamin! what has thee been doing?" she cried.
The lad sprang up alarmed.
"It's only a picture of the baby, mother," he said.
"A picture of the baby! Oh, wonderful! It looks just like her!"
The good woman was so overjoyed that she caught him in her arms and
kissed him. Then suddenly she began to wonder whether this was right.
"Benjamin, how did thee learn to draw such a picture?" she asked.
"I didn't learn," he answered. "I just did it. I couldn't help but do
it."
When Benjamin's father came home, his mother showed him the picture.
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