Following the sign of deep blue with yellow letters which indicates that this is the place where the Hand-Painted Wooden Toys are made, you must climb in the sunshine up the outside staircase, which looks as though it had been put up for scaffolding purposes and then forgotten.  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.  Mr. Dickerman, the artist, makes the pictures or designs, then we have them turned out by the mill.  See”—­she shows queer shaped pieces of wood that suggest nothing to the casual observer—­“Then the rest is done here!”

The room is full of all manner of curious and charming playthings.  Here is a real pirate’s chest for your treasures—­the young workwoman is just painting the yellow nails on it—­and here is a fierce-looking pirate with a cutlass for a bookshelf end; here is a futurist coat-hanger—­a cubist-faced burglar with a jaw and the peremptory legend:  “Give me your hat, scarf and coat!” Here is a neatly capped little waiting maid whose arms are constructed for flower holders; here are delightful watering-pots, exquisitely painted; wonderful cake covers, powder-boxes, blotters, brackets;—­every single thing a little gem of clever design and individual workmanship.  It is more fascinating than Toyland or Santa Claus’ shop.  These “rocking toys” are particularly fascinating:  the dreadnought that careens at perilous angles, and the kicking mule which knocks its driver over as often as you like to make it.  Shelves on shelves of these wonder-things complete, and a whole great table laden with them in half-finished forms.  Some of the little wooden figures are set in a long rack to dry, for after the shellac has hardened each colour is put on and allowed to dry thoroughly before applying the next.  The flesh-coloured enamel goes on first, then the other lighter shades, leaving the darker for the last, and the inevitable touches of black to finish off with.