Summary

Various Harper's Young People, November 7…

I never gave you lessons," said the astonished painter.
"But you gave them to others, and I listened to them," rejoined the boy, emboldened by the kindness of his master.
"And you have done better than listen; you have profited by them," exclaimed Murillo, unable longer to conceal his admiration. "Gentlemen, does this boy merit punishment or reward?"
At the word punishment Sebastian's heart beat quick; the word reward gave him a little courage; but fearing that his ears deceived him, he looked with timid and imploring eyes toward his master.
"A reward, señor," cried the pupils, in a breath.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Harper's Young People, November 7…

The children were at their wits' end. It was long past their dinner-time, and they were getting hungry; their clothes were all muddy, and Diddie's dress almost torn off of her; the blood was trickling down from the gash in her forehead, and Chris was all scratched and dirty, and her eyes smarted from the sand in them. So it was a disconsolate little group that sat huddled together on top of the lumber, while old Billy stood guard over Dilsey, but with one eye on the pile, ready to make a dash at anybody who should be foolish enough to venture down.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Harper's Young People, November 7…

It was night, and the studio of Murillo, the most celebrated painter in Seville, was now as silent as the grave. A single lamp burned upon a marble table, and a young mulatto boy, whose eyes sparkled like diamonds, leaned against an easel. Immovable and still, he was so deeply absorbed in his meditations that the door of the studio was opened by one who several times called him by name, and who, on receiving no answer, approached and touched him. Sebastian raised his eyes, which rested on a tall and handsome negro.
Source: Gutenberg

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