"Well, I can't," said Jasper.
"Let me see some of your sketches," begged Adela. "It's so nice to find
some one else who can draw. Do show me some."
"Oh, no," protested Jasper, in dismay, "not after this," pointing to
Adela's drawing.
"Do, Jasper," begged Polly, imploringly, "get your portfolio."
"Oh, I couldn't bring them all in," said Jasper. "I wouldn't show those
old things for the world, Polly."
"Well, bring some of them, do," she begged, while Adela said, "I showed
mine, and I didn't want to, I'm sure." So Jasper ran up to his room,
and pretty soon he came back with his portfolio.
"You did bring it, after all," exclaimed Polly, in satisfaction,
patting the brown leather cover. "Oh, how nice of you, Jasper," as they
ran over and ensconced themselves in a cosey corner.
"I took out the worst ones," said Jasper, with a laugh. "And I'm
awfully sorry I didn't leave behind more of the others."
"I hope you brought that woman with a basket of vegetables we saw at
the market the other day," said Polly, as he opened the portfolio. "Do
tell me, Jasper, you did bring that, didn't you?" beginning to fumble
through the pile.
"Yes, I did, Polly," said Jasper; "she's in there all safe and sound."
So for the next hour, there was great turning over and comparing of
sketches, and much talk about vertical lines and graceful curves, and
shading and perspective, and expression, and dear knows what all, as
the three heads bent over the portfolio.
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