ons in "Water-babies."
From time to time in his busy life the painter returned to his home
for a breath of country air. On one of these visits he brought back
to London with him his young niece Theophila Palmer, whose father had
just died. Offy, as she was called, soon became the pet of her
bachelor uncle's household, of which she long remained a member. As
she flitted about the house the little country-bred girl with her
fresh healthy beauty was a constant reminder to the painter of the
woods and fields. Perhaps one day as he was looking at her with
special pleasure the picture suddenly flashed upon his fancy of Offy
in the character of a village maid. The idea developed into the
Strawberry Girl, for which Offy sat as model.

A little girl has been sent on an errand along a lonely road leading
out of the village. It may be that like little Red Riding Hood in the
nursery tale she is carrying some dainties to her grandmother. A
basket of strawberries hangs on her arm, and her apron also seems to
be filled with something, for it is gathered up in front like a bag,
the corners dropping over the arm.

Twilight begins to fall as she comes to a turn of the road
overshadowed by a high rock. There are all sorts of queer noises and
shadows here, and she steals timidly past the eerie place, peering
forward with big eyes.

[Illustration: THE STRAWBERRY GIRL]

Yet she is a womanly child, who will not easily be turned back. She
feels the importance of her errand, and is worthy of the trust. The
simple low-cut gown is that of a village maid. An odd cap, something
like a turban, covers her head and adds a trifle to her height and
dignity. Her round face and chubby neck would be the envy of the
puny city child who knows not the luxury of big porringers of bread
and milk. If her hands are rather too delicately moulded for those of
a country child we must remember again that Reynolds was painting from
his own little niece.

In imagination we follow the little maid about the simple round of her
childish pursuits. Every morning she goes demurely to school to fix
her thoughts on "button holes and spelling books." Perhaps it is a
dame school like that in "Water Babies," with a "shining clean stone
floor and curious old prints on the wall and a cuckoo clock in the
corner," Here some dozen children sit on benches "gabbling
Chris-cross," while a nice old woman in a red petticoat and white cap
hears them from the chimney corner.

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