Mr Frampton was a fashionable portrait painter; and, one day when he was
out with his wife, young Richard, his son, who was quite a spoiled boy,
fetched in some of his little acquaintances--two young gentlemen and one
lady.
"Now," said he, trying to look wise, "Miss Fanny, just stand with
flowers in your hand while I paint you like a grand lady; and one of you
quiz the work as it goes on, and the other pretend to be in raptures
with the portrait."
"Will you write her name under it, when it's done?" asked Bobby Butt,
who was always ready with his fun.
"No," answered Richard, laughingly; "I shall make it a speaking
likeness."
"Well, I'm glad of that," returned the lady; "for I shouldn't like to be
taken with my mouth shut."
So they went to work.
Richard looked at the lady very sharp, particularly with his right
eye,--you can see him; and Bob took a penny out of his pocket and held
it in front of him as if it were an eye-glass; and Frank put his right
leg out, and bent forward and said every now and then, "To a T!"
"Charming!" "Nature improved!" and other such flatteries.
It was very well to say all this; but the truth must be told: when
Richard had painted the lady's head and neck, he had no more room on the
canvas; and what was done was so ugly, that the subject threw her
bouquet at it. Then Richard sent it back again, at which she boxed his
ears.
"It certainly is like nothing in the world," said Bob, putting his hands
before his eyes as he looked at the smudges.
"Of course not," retorted Richard; "it's in the high school of art, and
is not therefore meant to be natural!"
"Oh! that alters the case," said Frank. After a bit they began to throw
the things about, and a terrible mess and rout they made.
When they were quite tired, Richard said, "Now I'll show you all my
toys!" and he was about to go out of the studio to fetch them,--
"Stay where you are!" cried his father, slyly entering. "You have been
spoiling my things, and romping where you have no business; I must set
you a task as a punishment, and your friends must go home at once."
All the boys turned red enough without being painted; and Richard's
father said, quite sternly, "Next time, before you, children, play with,
and destroy property, just ask yourselves how you would like your
playthings meddled with and broken?"
[Illustration: The Busy Bees]
_Oh! Boys and Girls can useful prove,
If they will only try;
And smile and work in some slight groove,
As well as play or cry._