Pierre Auguste Renoir Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Pierre Auguste Renoir Two Sisters (On the Terrace)Thomas Kinkade The Garden of PrayerThomas Kinkade Lombard Street
Mort looked at his feet. He was a dutiful son, when he remembered, and if being an apprentice was what was expected of him then he was determined to be a good one. Carpentry didn't sound very promising, though – , and a tendency to split. And official thieves were rare in the Ramtops, where , but the crimson fires of shame and stubbornness flared up inside him, hotter than the slopes of Hell. He blew on his fingers for something to do and stared up at the freezing sky, trying to avoid the stares of the few stragglers among what remained of the fair.
Most of the stallkeepers had packed up and gone. Even the hot meat pie man had stopped crying his wares and, with no regard for personal safety, was eating one.people weren't rich enough to afford them.'All right,' he said eventually, 'I'll go and give it a try. But what happens if I don't get prenticed?'Lezek scratched his head.'I don't know,' he said. 'I expect you just wait until the end of the fair. At midnight. I suppose.' And now midnight approached.A light frost began to crisp the cobblestones. In the ornamental clock tower that overlooked the square a couple of delicately-carved little automatons whirred out of trapdoors in the clockface and struck the quarter hour.Fifteen minutes to midnight. Mort shivered