can draw it, Jimmy."

"Yes, I can," said the little boy, confidently. "Just see if I don't."

"Jimmy has improved a good deal," said his mother.

"You'll be a great artist one of these days, Jimmy," said Paul.

"I'm going to try, Paul," said the little boy. "I like it so much."

Little Jimmy had indeed made surprising progress in drawing. With no
instruction whatever, he had succeeded in a very close and accurate
imitation of the sketches in the drawing books Paul had purchased for
him. It was a great delight to the little boy to draw, and hour after
hour, as his mother sat at her work, he sat up to the table, and worked
at his drawing, scarcely speaking a word unless spoken to, so absorbed
was he in his fascinating employment.

Paul watched him attentively.

"You'll make a bully artist, Jimmy," he said, at length, really
surprised at his little brother's proficiency. "If you keep on a little
longer, you'll beat me."

"I wish you'd draw something, Paul," said Jimmy. "I never saw any of
your drawings."

"I am afraid, if you saw mine, it would discourage you," said Paul. "You
know, I'm older and ought to draw better."

His face was serious, but there was a merry twinkle of fun in his eyes.

"Of course, I know you draw better," said Jimmy, seriously.

"What shall I draw?" asked Paul.

"Try this horse, Paul."

"All right!" said Paul. "But you must go away; I don't want you to see
it till it is done."

Jimmy left the table, and Paul commenced his attempt. Now, though Paul
is the hero of my story, I am bound to confess that he had not the
slightest talent for drawing, though Jimmy did not know it. It was only
to afford his little brother amusement that he now undertook the task.

Paul worked away for about five minutes.

"It's done," he said.

"So quick?" exclaimed Jimmy, in surprise. "How fast you work!"

He drew near and inspected Paul's drawing. He had no sooner inspected
it than he burst into a fit of laughter. Paul's drawing was a very rough
one, and such a horse as he had drawn will never probably be seen until
the race has greatly degenerated.

"What's the matter, Jimmy?" asked Paul. "Don't you like it?"

"It's awful, Paul," said the little boy, almost choking with mirth.

"I see how it is," said Paul, with feigned resentment. "You're jealous of
me because you can't draw as well."

"Oh, Paul, you'll kill me!" and Jimmy again burst into a fit of
merriment. "Can't you really draw any better?"