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.
"It looks just like her, doesn't it?" she said. "But I am afraid. I
don't know what to think. Does thee suppose that it is very wrong for
Benjamin to do such a thing?"

The father did not answer. He turned the picture this way and that,
and looked at it from every side. He compared it with the baby's pretty
face. Then he handed it back to his wife and said:--

"Put it away. It may be that the hand of the Lord is in this."