Publisher's Synopsis
SIX MONTHS AFTER. "It's most time for Paul to come home," said Mrs. Hoffman. "I must be setting the table for supper." "I wonder how he will like my new picture," said Jimmy, a delicate boy of eight, whose refined features, thoughtful look, and high brow showed that his mind by no means shared the weakness of his body. Though only eight years of age he already manifested a remarkable taste and talent for drawing, in which he had acquired surprising skill, considering that he had never taken lessons, but had learned all he knew from copying such pictures as fell in his way. "Let me see your picture, Jimmy," said Mrs. Hoffman. "Have you finished it?" She came up and looked over his shoulder. He had been engaged in copying a humorous picture from the last page of Harper's Weekly. It was an ambitious attempt on the part of so young a pupil, but he had succeeded remarkably well, reproducing with close fidelity the grotesque expressions of the figures introduced in the picture. "That is excellent, Jimmy," said his mother in warm commendation. The little boy looked gratified. "Do you think I will be an artist some day?" he asked. "I have no doubt of it," said his mother, "if you can only obtain suitable instruction. However, there is plenty of time for that. You are only seven years old." "I shall be eight to-morrow," said Jimmy, straightening up his slender form with the pride which every boy feels in advancing age. "So you will. I had forgotten it." "I wonder whether I can earn as much money as Paul when I get as old," said Jimmy thoughtfully. "I don't think I can. I shan't be half as strong." "It isn't always the strongest who earn the most money," said his mother. "But Paul is smart as well as strong." "So are you smart. You can read unusually well for a boy of your age, and in drawing I think Paul is hardly your equal, though he is twice as old." Jimmy laughed. "That's true, mother," he said. "Paul tried to draw a horse the other day, and it looked more like a cow." "You see then that we all have our different gifts. Paul has a talent for business." "I think he'll be rich some day, mother." "I hope he will, for I think he will make a good use of his money." While Mrs. Hoffman was speaking she had been setting the table for supper. The meal was not a luxurious one, but there was no lack of food. Beside rolls and butter, there was a plate of cold meat, an apple pie, and a pot of steaming hot tea. The cloth was scrupulously clean, and I am sure that though the room was an humble one not one of my readers need have felt a repugnance to sitting down at Mrs. Hoffman's plain table. For the benefit of such as may not have read "Paul the Peddler," I will explain briefly that Mrs. Hoffman, by the death of her husband two years previous, had been reduced to poverty, which compelled her to move into a tenement house and live as best she could on the earnings of her oldest son, Paul, supplemented by the pittance she obtained for sewing. Paul, a smart, enterprising boy, after trying most of the street occupations, had become a young street merchant....
