Her pink mountain had run into her blue mountain, and the interrupted wash had dried with hard and unmanageable outlines.

Sponging was the only remedy.
Next drawing-lesson day Mr.Henley arrived a few minutes earlier than was his wont, staggering under a huge basket containing a large clump of flags and waterside herbage, which he had dug up "bodily," as he said.
These he arranged on a tray, and then from the bottom of the basket produced the broken fragments of a red earthenware jug.
"It was such a favourite of mine, Miss Arkwright," said he; "but what is sacred to a maid-of-all-work?
My only consolation, when she smashed it this morning, was the thought that it would serve in the foreground of your sketch." Saying which, the kind-hearted little man laid the red crocks among the weeds, and after much pulling up and down of blinds to coax a good light on to the subject, he called Eleanor to set to work.
"It is _very_ good of you," said Eleanor emphatically.

"When I have been so rude, too!" "It is a pleasure," said the old man; "and will be doubly so if you do it well.

I should like to try it myself," he added, making a few hasty dashes with the pencil.

"Ah, my dear young lady, be thankful that you will sketch for pleasure, and not for bread! It is pleasanter to learn than to teach." Out of gratitude to Mr.Henley alone, Eleanor would have done her best at the new "study"; but apart from this the change of subject was delightful to her.