Page 184 - Orange Butterfly (2)

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So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. he had never broken the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with his magic palette.
But no one cared for his pictures. even his mother did not like them. his forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her window. all this made the young man very unhappy. he began to doubt whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his palette. he thought the fairy had deserted him.
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