Suddenly there was a loud bark of welcome from Nep, the Newfoundland
dog--who greeted tramps with growls--and Graham Smith came up the garden
path, followed by Nep, leaping frantically upon and about him.
He nodded in a brusque way to Lisa and Phil, and without a word bent
down over the sketch, gave a long, low whistle, and said, "Isn't that
bully?"
"If I knew what bully meant, I could answer you, perhaps," replied
Phil, gazing up with admiration at the brown and red cheeks, the clear
blue eyes, and the tough, hardy-looking frame of his new acquaintance.
"I'm not sure I can tell you; only you can beat all the boys I know at
this sort of work," said Graham. "Where did you learn how to do it?"
"Oh, I have not learned yet; I am only just beginning."
"Haven't you had any lessons?"
"No; it comes naturally to me to draw. I wish I could do it better,
that's all," said Phil, with a little sigh.
"I wouldn't want to do any better than that," said Graham.
"Oh yes, you would," replied Phil, very much pleased, however, with such
heartfelt admiration of his drawing.
Just then Nep made another leap upon Graham, and the two, after a
friendly tussle, had a race down to the lake, where Graham tossed a
stick, and sent the dog after it.
"That is something _I_ cannot do," said Phil, as the boy came up to him
again; "and yet you do it as easily as I draw.
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