Pausing on the rickety stairway and looking out beyond the
crazy little court and over the drowsy Square, you will have a great
deal of difficulty in believing that you left your cable car about a
minute and a half before. Pass on up the stairs. You may nearly fall
over the black-and-white feline which belongs to no one in any of the
buildings, but which haunts them all like an unquiet ghost, and which
is known by everyone as the Crazy Cat; so to the door of the
studio-workshop where the toys are made.
[Illustration: PATCHIN PLACE. One of the strange little "lost courts"
given over to the Villagers and their pursuits.]
And have you ever seen anything quite like that workshop?
A little light studio full of colour and the smell of paint. On one
side blue-green boxes stacked on shelves; on the other finished sample
toys not ready to be boxed. Shallow dishes of orange and emerald green
and bright pink and primrose and black and vivid blue.
"Yes," says the girl who is working there--she is fair and wears a
pale-green frock and a black work-apron,--"I do this part.
Pages:
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260