When Nello was fifteen years old, he, Jehan, and Patrasche still lived together happily in their little hut. Life had not changed. Nello and Patrasche delivered the milk daily. Nello still dreamed of being an artist and drew pictures every day.
On one fine day, Nello and Patrasche had finished their work. As usual, they went to find Nello's friend Alois to play. She was Nello's best friend, and they had played together for many years.
Alois was twelve. She had no brothers or sisters. Her father, the miller, was the richest man in the village. Her little dresses were always pretty. Her cheeks were rosy, and her sweet, dark eyes shone. Many families wanted their sons to marry her when she was older. But Alois had no interest in older boys. She just loved playing with her friend Nello and his great, friendly dog.
First, Alois, Nello, and Patrasche went up to the old, gray church together. Then they raced to the fields and played hide-and-seek in the long cornflowers. Later they lay down, exhausted. Alois took a little nap, and Patrasche laid his head in her lap. Nello found a clean piece of pine wood and took out a stick of charcoal. He started to draw a small portrait of Alois and Patrasche. Nello drew quickly and confidently. He drew Alois' dark hair falling on her bright cheeks. He drew Patrasche's golden fur shining in the sun. Behind them, a patch of flowers tilted in the breeze.
Alois' father, the miller, came walking into the field. He was a good man, but was a strict father. When he saw the portrait, tears came to his eyes. It captured his daughter's likeness perfectly. It was beautiful. The miller told Alois to go home.
"Your mother wants you," he said.
"But Daddy, I'm having fun!" Alois protested.
"Obey your father," the miller said roughly.
The miller snatched the wood from Nello's hands and looked at it closely.
"Do you make drawings of my daughter a lot?" he asked. His voice trembled.
Nello blushed and hung his head.
"I draw everything I see," he murmured.
The miller was silent. He thought about Nello and his life of poverty. Then the miller held out a coin.
"Drawing is a foolish pastime," he said. "But the picture is like Alois. It will please her mother. Take this coin and I will take the picture."
Nello stopped blushing. He lifted his head and put his hands behind his back.
"Keep the money and keep the portrait, Master Cogez," he said simply. "You have often been good to me."
Then Nello called Patrasche. Together they walked home across the field.
"With that coin, I might have seen the master's paintings," he said to Patrasche. "But I could not sell her picture─not even for them."