allowed to go into the church and watch those
wonderful frescoes, which grew under the hand of
the great awkward painter, `Ugly Tom,' as he was
called.

Together Filippo and Diamante stood and watched
with awe, learning lessons there which the good
father had not been able to teach. Then they
would begin to put into practice what they had
learned, and try to copy in their own pictures the
work of the great master.

`Thou hast the knack of it, Filippo,' Diamante
would say as he looked with envy at the figures
Filippo drew so easily.

`Thy pictures are also good,' Filippo would
answer quickly, `and thou thyself art better than
any one else in the convent.'

There was no complaint now of Filippo's dullness.
He soon learned all that the painter-monks could
teach him, and as years passed on the prior would
rub his hands in delight to think that here was an
artist, one of themselves, who would soon be able to
paint the walls of the church and convent, and make
them as famous as the convent of San Marco had
been made famous by its angelical painter.

Then one day he called Filippo to him.