bread for our families," said Raymond; "but where is Will? I have not
seen him since I came in; neither did he come to meet me as usual."

"I am here, father," said a sweet childish voice; and creeping from a
dark corner between the cupboard and the wall, a little boy came forth
and stood at his father's knee, and, without speaking, looked up into
his face with an expression of more than ordinary meaning. Slight and
delicately made, he was easily raised to his usual seat on his
father's knee, when, kissing him affectionately, he inquired, "What
have you been doing all day, Will? I believe you have had no school."

"Wait, father, and I will show you," replied the boy, as he slid down
from his father's knee; and running to the corner from whence he had
come at Raymond's call, he returned almost immediately with two or
three half-sheets of paper in his hand. "I have been drawing," said
the little boy, as his father took the sketches and examined them with
a grave look. "Please do not be angry, for I did not take your
pencils."

"And how did you draw without pencils?" asked his father. "Let me see
what you have here;--a table, a chair, ah yes, and a house with trees!
Very good, William; but I would rather you did not draw any more."

The boy would have asked why, but taught that the parental wish was to
be regarded as a law, he tried to conquer the emotion which would
arise in spite of all efforts to restrain it. It seemed hard to be so
disappointed: he expected praise, and now, if he had not received
censure, certainly not the slightest approval was accorded.
Accustomed, however, not to question, but submit, the little fellow
threw his arms embracingly round his father's neck and bade him good