Emmett’s shoulders. “Not luck,” he said. “Maybe inspiration, but
not luck. I’m here to help this boy, too. You saw this morning what he can do. I want to make sure he can do it other times,
too, when I’m nothere. You fellows can. You’ve been used to it. Not Emmett. Emmett’s been born with a sad case of shyness. Maybe you don’t
know what it is. But I do. It isn’t fun being shy. However, he’s getting over it. Aren’t you, Emmett?”
“I — I guess so,” said Emmett.
Mr. G. and Emmett walked home together. “Got some news for you, Emmett, my friend,” said Mr. G. “I’m going home.”
“Home?” Emmett stared. “Do you mean back home to New York? Why, Mr. G.?”
“My folks gave me money to come here and learn to be a painter. Well, I’ve failed. I can’t take any more of their money, Emmett.
I’m going back home, and find a job doing something.”
Emmett’s eyes ached. “I wish you wouldn’t go, Mr. G. You really don’t have to, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve met some nice friends. Especially young ones, like you. But I should.”
Emmett began thinking hard. After a long while he said, “Mr. G., will you do something for me, first? Will you paint a picture
of me?”
“Of you?” Mr. G.’s eyes widened in amazement, and then his lips parted in a friendly grin. “Well, bless my soul, Emmett! Bless
my very soul!”
“Will you?” Emmett asked again.
“Well —” Mr. G. paused. He thought deeply. Then he said, “All right. You’re my best. friend. For you I’ll paint a picture.
I’ll paint the very best picture I can.”
He started that afternoon, painting Emmett’s picture while Emmett sat on a chair in front of him. He continued painting the
next day and the next. Each day, after school, Emmett sat in front of Mr. G. for half an hour. By the end of the week the
painting was completed.
“Now you may look at it,” smiled Mr. G., for he hadn’t let Emmett look at the painting while he’d been working.
Emmett’s heart sang with pride. He looked at the picture. What a surprise! Mr. G. had painted him shooting a basket! He was
in his Penguins’ uniform, leaping up, the ball just leaving his hands. In the background were blurred faces of other players
and fans.
“I was just sitting here,” murmured Emmett breathlessly. “How could you paint me doing this?”
Mr. G. smiled. “Do you like it? Are you satisfied?”
“I love it, Mr. G.! Thank you!”
Emmett held the precious painting against him as he carried it home. He showed it to his Mom and Dad. They gazed at it fascinated,
as if it were a work of wonder. It truly was an excellent painting.
“Can we get it framed?” Emmett asked.
“We’ll get the best,” Dad said softly.
Emmett took the painting to his room, sat on the edge of his bed and stared long and thoughtfully at the wall. He wasn’t thinking
where he’d hang the lovely painting. He was thinking about something else.
16
T HE TEAMS in the Ice Cap League, Class D Division, finished the season as follows:
K ODIAKS
I CEBERGS
P OLAR B EARS
P ENGUINS
E SKIMOS
S EALS
The Kodiaks and the Polar Bears tangled Saturday A.M . at ten o’clock. The Kodiaks won. They would play the winner of the second game, Icebergs versus Penguins, which started
at eleven o’clock. The winner of that game would be the champions of the Class D Division.
Emmett was in the starting lineup. While the captains of both teams discussed the court rules with the two referees, Emmett
took a final look at the bench. Still no Mr. G. But he saw his Mom and Dad, and Charlene and Georgianne. He caught his Dad’s
smile, and flashed a quick one back.
The horn blew. The game was on. Rusty outjumped the Icebergs’ willowy center, tapping the ball to Robin. Robin moved it upcourt
and passed to Mickey, who shot a quick pass to Emmett. Emmett pivoted, leaped as if to throw an overhand shot, but fired to
Rusty. Rusty drove in and laid the
not luck. I’m here to help this boy, too. You saw this morning what he can do. I want to make sure he can do it other times,
too, when I’m nothere. You fellows can. You’ve been used to it. Not Emmett. Emmett’s been born with a sad case of shyness. Maybe you don’t
know what it is. But I do. It isn’t fun being shy. However, he’s getting over it. Aren’t you, Emmett?”
“I — I guess so,” said Emmett.
Mr. G. and Emmett walked home together. “Got some news for you, Emmett, my friend,” said Mr. G. “I’m going home.”
“Home?” Emmett stared. “Do you mean back home to New York? Why, Mr. G.?”
“My folks gave me money to come here and learn to be a painter. Well, I’ve failed. I can’t take any more of their money, Emmett.
I’m going back home, and find a job doing something.”
Emmett’s eyes ached. “I wish you wouldn’t go, Mr. G. You really don’t have to, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve met some nice friends. Especially young ones, like you. But I should.”
Emmett began thinking hard. After a long while he said, “Mr. G., will you do something for me, first? Will you paint a picture
of me?”
“Of you?” Mr. G.’s eyes widened in amazement, and then his lips parted in a friendly grin. “Well, bless my soul, Emmett! Bless
my very soul!”
“Will you?” Emmett asked again.
“Well —” Mr. G. paused. He thought deeply. Then he said, “All right. You’re my best. friend. For you I’ll paint a picture.
I’ll paint the very best picture I can.”
He started that afternoon, painting Emmett’s picture while Emmett sat on a chair in front of him. He continued painting the
next day and the next. Each day, after school, Emmett sat in front of Mr. G. for half an hour. By the end of the week the
painting was completed.
“Now you may look at it,” smiled Mr. G., for he hadn’t let Emmett look at the painting while he’d been working.
Emmett’s heart sang with pride. He looked at the picture. What a surprise! Mr. G. had painted him shooting a basket! He was
in his Penguins’ uniform, leaping up, the ball just leaving his hands. In the background were blurred faces of other players
and fans.
“I was just sitting here,” murmured Emmett breathlessly. “How could you paint me doing this?”
Mr. G. smiled. “Do you like it? Are you satisfied?”
“I love it, Mr. G.! Thank you!”
Emmett held the precious painting against him as he carried it home. He showed it to his Mom and Dad. They gazed at it fascinated,
as if it were a work of wonder. It truly was an excellent painting.
“Can we get it framed?” Emmett asked.
“We’ll get the best,” Dad said softly.
Emmett took the painting to his room, sat on the edge of his bed and stared long and thoughtfully at the wall. He wasn’t thinking
where he’d hang the lovely painting. He was thinking about something else.
16
T HE TEAMS in the Ice Cap League, Class D Division, finished the season as follows:
K ODIAKS
I CEBERGS
P OLAR B EARS
P ENGUINS
E SKIMOS
S EALS
The Kodiaks and the Polar Bears tangled Saturday A.M . at ten o’clock. The Kodiaks won. They would play the winner of the second game, Icebergs versus Penguins, which started
at eleven o’clock. The winner of that game would be the champions of the Class D Division.
Emmett was in the starting lineup. While the captains of both teams discussed the court rules with the two referees, Emmett
took a final look at the bench. Still no Mr. G. But he saw his Mom and Dad, and Charlene and Georgianne. He caught his Dad’s
smile, and flashed a quick one back.
The horn blew. The game was on. Rusty outjumped the Icebergs’ willowy center, tapping the ball to Robin. Robin moved it upcourt
and passed to Mickey, who shot a quick pass to Emmett. Emmett pivoted, leaped as if to throw an overhand shot, but fired to
Rusty. Rusty drove in and laid the
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