No one who has ever been to the workroom of one of those art shops
will ever forget it. Personally I found it more enchanting than any
regular studio I ever visited. There was quite real art there.
Remember, those designs show no mean order of genius and imagination,
and the more mechanical work is beautifully done and is constantly
given a little individual, quaint twist which stamps the toys as
personal works of art. And the whole picture,--I wish I could paint
it! The low-ceilinged room, set high up above the little court; the
sunshine and the golden square outside; the girl in the black smock
and the huge table covered with pots and saucers and jars of every
shape and size; and the vivid splashes of colour in the bright
afternoon light--scarlet and violet and yellow and indigo and
red-brown. And the wall full of strange and brilliant little figures
grinning, scowling and staring down like so many goblins!
Just as you go out of the studio your eye can scarcely fail to fall
upon one particular wooden hanger to be screwed on a door.
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