The family was in the kitchen, planning to shop for school supplies.
Vinnie and Mandy were about to start at a new school.
But they weren't very excited.
"Come on, you'll make new friends!" said Dad.
"Yeah, I know," Vinnie sighed.
"But they won't be the same friends," said Mandy unhappily.
The children were sad because their photo trips were almost over.
Only one page was left in the album.
Just then the phone rang.
It was Dad's boss.
"Sorry, but I need some privacy," said Dad.
"No problem, Dad," said Vinnie.
"We'll talk later about school, kids," said Mom.
Vinnie and Mandy ran up to the attic.
"Can you believe it?
Our last photo trip," said Mandy.
She hugged the album.
"Well, let's do it!" cried Vinnie.
Mandy opened the album to the last page.
The old man stood in a beautiful cathedral with tall columns.
The old man held a glowing object in his hands.
"A book?" asked Mandy, looking at the glowing object.
"What do you think, Vinnie?"
"No use guessing," he said.
"We'll find out soon!"
The children's eyes closed, and they fell down the dark tunnel.
Vinnie and Mandy landed on a stone floor and opened their eyes.
Mandy was wearing a long dress with long sleeves.
Vinnie wore stockings and a short tunic.
"We're in some kind of storage room," said Vinnie.
Stacks of paper, brushes, and rags were piled around them.
Hammers and other tools were scattered about.
Large, flat panels of wood leaned against the wall.
"It must be a painter's storage room,"
said Mandy, picking up a paint brush.
The door opened, and a boy a little older than Vinnie walked in.
He was thin with curly hair.
He stared at Vinnie and Mandy.
"Oh, hello," Mandy said nervously.
"What are you guys doing here?" the boy asked.
"We were just . . . ," stammered Vinnie.
"You are not from here," the boy said.
"How did you know?" asked Mandy.
"No one would come into Master Verrocchio's workshop uninvited," the boy said.
The children looked embarrassed.
"We don't know our way around," Vinnie said.
The boy smiled warmly.
"I can show you the city," he said.
"But I must see the master first."
The boy picked up a stack of rags and some brushes.
"Have you worked for your master long?"
asked Vinnie, thinking the boy was a servant.
"He is not my master.
He is the master of this workshop.
I am his student," said the boy.
"Student?" asked Vinnie.
The boy looked at him and replied,
"I am studying to become the greatest artist in the world."