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!