She colored a little, and glanced at him, playfully affecting to look very proud of his sentence of approval--then hurriedly resumed her drawing as their eyes met.

He was sent back to his place by Valentine before he could write anything more.

She took some of the bread-crumb near her to rub out what he had written--hesitated as her hand approached the lines--colored more deeply than before, and went on with her drawing, leaving the letters beneath it to remain just as young Thorpe had traced them.
"I shall never be able to draw as well as she does," said Zack, looking at the little he had done with a groan of despair.

"The fact is, I don't think drawing's my forte.

It's color, depend upon it.