'I'm so frightened,' she said; 'I'm afraid I don't paint well enough.'

'You'll get on all right. I'll see you through. This way. I've got
your easel, and your place is taken.'

They went up to the galleries.

'Oh, dear me, this seems rather alarming!' she exclaimed, stopping
before the crowd of easels, the paint-boxes, the palettes on the
thumbs, the sheaves of brushes, the maulsticks in the air. She glanced
at the work, seeking eagerly for copies, worse than any she was likely
to perpetrate. Mr. Hoskin assured her that there were many in the
gallery who could not do as well as she. And she experienced a little
thrill when he led her to the easel. A beautiful white canvas stood on
it ready for her to begin, and on a chair by the side of the easel was
her paint-box and brushes. He told her where she would find him, in
the Turner room, and that she must not hesitate to come and fetch him
whenever she was in difficulties.

'I should like you to see the drawing,' she said, 'before I begin to
paint.'

'I shall look to your drawing many times before I allow you to begin
painting. It will take you at least a couple of days to get it
right.... Don't be afraid,' he said, glancing round; 'lots of them
can't do as well as you. I shall be back about lunch time.'

The picture that Mildred had elected to copy was Reynolds's angel
heads. She looked at the brown gold of their hair, and wondered what
combination of umber and sienna would produce it. She studied the