draw and sketch so beautifully; and now to think of having this lovely
picture of Phronsie!

"But, you must tear it up," said Adela, in alarm, "else I'm sorry I
gave it to you, Polly."

"Tear it up!" repeated Polly, in astonishment; "tear up this lovely
picture of Phronsie! What do you mean, Adela Gray?"

"Oh, I've a copy, of course," said Adela, carelessly; "and I'm going to
do you another better one."

"Where did you learn to draw so well?" asked Jasper, in admiration of
the bold, accurate lines, and the graceful curves.

"In school, at Paris," said Adela, quietly.

Polly looked over Jasper's arm, and scanned the sketch. "I never saw
anything so lovely!" she exclaimed. "And it's just alive! Isn't it,
Jasper?"

"Yes, it is splendid," he said enthusiastically; "and that's the best
part of it--it's alive, Polly, as you say."

"I'd give anything in all this world, Adela, if I could draw like
that," mourned Polly.

"I'd rather play on the piano," said Adela, "than do all the drawing in
the world. But I can't learn; the music master said there was something
the matter with my ear, and I never could tell one note from another by