In a very tall house, with a swirly iron gate and shiny windows, lived a boy named George. Now, George didn't live in one of the fancy apartments upstairs. Oh no! He lived with his dad, the porter, in a little room right by the big front door. His dad's job was to open the door for all the important people and make sure everything was tidy.

George loved watching the people come and go. Especially, he loved to catch a glimpse of Little Sophie. She was the daughter of the rich family who lived on the very top floor. She had bouncy curls and wore pretty dresses, and George thought she was like a princess from a storybook. He would sometimes see her playing in the courtyard, and he'd hide behind a bush, just to watch.

George had a secret. When no one was looking, he would take bits of soft clay he found and make tiny figures – little dogs, brave knights, and sometimes, a little girl with bouncy curls. His father would often say, "George, my boy, you need to learn a proper trade! Making mud pies won't put food on the table." But George couldn't help it; his fingers just loved to shape things.

One sunny afternoon, a very famous sculptor, a kind old man named Mr. Antonio, came to visit the rich family. While waiting for them, he wandered near the porter's lodge. And what did he see? He saw George, completely lost in his work, carefully shaping a tiny bird out of clay.

Mr. Antonio's eyes twinkled. "Well, hello there, young man," he said gently. "That's a rather fine bird you're making."

George jumped, nearly dropping his bird! He was usually shy around strangers. But Mr. Antonio had such a kind smile. George showed him his other little figures.

"Remarkable!" Mr. Antonio exclaimed, looking closely at a tiny knight on a horse. "You have a gift, my boy. A real gift!"

Mr. Antonio talked to George's father. He explained that George had a special talent for art. He offered to take George as his apprentice, to teach him everything he knew about sculpting. George's father was a bit worried – art seemed like a dream, not a job. But seeing the hopeful look in George's eyes, and trusting the kind old sculptor, he agreed.

So, George went to live and work with Mr. Antonio. He learned how to use proper tools, how to look at things to see their true shape, and how to make his clay figures even more beautiful. He worked very, very hard, from early morning until late at night. He missed his little room by the gate sometimes, and he often thought of Little Sophie.

Years went by. George traveled with Mr. Antonio to a warm, sunny country filled with amazing old statues. He learned and sculpted, and sculpted and learned. Soon, people started to hear about the talented young sculptor named George. His statues were so lifelike and beautiful that everyone wanted one. George became famous!

But even though he was famous and wore nicer clothes, George never forgot his humble beginnings. He was still the same kind, gentle George.

One day, he decided to visit his old home. The tall house looked just the same. As he walked towards the big front door, he saw a young woman in the courtyard. She had bouncy curls, though she was much taller now. It was Sophie!

Sophie looked at him. "Excuse me," she said, "do I know you?"

George smiled. "It's George," he said. "The porter's son."

Sophie's eyes widened in surprise. "George! Is it really you? I heard you became a famous artist!"

They talked for a long time. George told her about his adventures, and Sophie told him about her life. She was very proud of what he had achieved.

And George, the porter's son who once secretly made clay figures, showed everyone that if you have a dream and work hard, wonderful things can happen, no matter where you start. He still thought Sophie was like a princess, and maybe, just maybe, she thought he was a bit like a prince, even if he did start out in the porter's lodge.

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