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say when he sees the muddle I've made of this gate. Here he comes now." The master must certainly have found the little girl's work far from talented, but, taking her seat, he made a patient effort to correct the mistakes in her drawing, adding a clever line or two of his own to show her how it ought to be done, then with a word of encouragement to Marian and Sylvia he passed on to some of his elder pupils. The painting did not prove such a redeeming feature as Sylvia had anticipated. Her sky refused to go on smoothly, and, as she was in too great a hurry to let it dry properly before she commenced her tree, the edges ran into each other hopelessly, producing an effect that was perhaps too impressionistic for most tastes. The trunk of the tree would not appear round, and the branches had an uncomfortable suggestion of signposts, and she could not get the right colour for the grass, and found the shadows absolutely baffling. "It's a perfect daub," she cried, flinging down her brush as Mercy came round presently to see how they were getting on. "So's mine, I'm afraid," said Mercy. "You may see it if you like, but it's hardly worth looking at. I'm letting it dry before I touch it any more. It was getting into such a dreadful mess. Sketching from nature isn't at all easy. I think Mr. Dawson's extremely clever to paint such lovely things. You should see the sweet little bit he put in for Trissie Knowles. It seems no trouble to him." "I wish you'd do a piece for me, Mercy," said Linda. "Oh, I daren't! Mr. Dawson would find it out directly, and perhaps he mightn't like it. May Spencer's sketch is far the best of anybody's. She just dashed it off, and it looks so nice. Helen Ward let her sky dry in patches, and Mr. Dawson had to take her board to the stream and dip it in the water to wash it off again. We're doing the cottage, you know, round the corner, and when Sybil Lake had painted all the front of hers she discovered she'd left out one of the windows." "Who's this coming along the road?" interrupted Marian. "He's smiling at one of us, I'm sure. I don't know him. Do you?" "Dr. Severn!" cried Linda and Sylvia, and, springing up, they put their sketching materials on the grass and hurried to meet him. "Good afternoon! This is quite a surprise to me," said the doctor. "I didn't expect to find my two little friends suddenly blossoming into full-blown artists. I hope I'm not interrupting a lesson." "Oh, no!
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