“WE’VE GOT ’EM! WE’VE GOT ’EM!”
Mrs. Rockwood was in her sitting-room one morning. It was Saturday, and a day of liberty for Jean. She had gone over to the school to spend a few hours with Helen, and Mrs. Lockwood did not expect her home until lunch-time, but, happening to glance from her window about ten o’clock, what was her surprise to see two figures approaching, one with a series of bounds, prances and jumps, which indicated a wildly hilarious and satisfied frame of mind in Jean, and the other with a subdued hop and skip, and then a sedate walk, which, although less demonstrative, was quite as indicative of a very deep and serene happiness to any one familiar with Helen.
A moment later the front door slammed, and two pairs of feet came tearing up the stairs as though pursued by Boer cavalry, and two eager voices cried:
“We’ve got ’em! We’ve got ’em! We’ve got ’em!” and both girls came tearing into the room to cast themselves and two very suggestive looking parcels upon Mrs. Rockwood.
“What in this world has happened?” she asked, in amazement, for both girls were breathless, and could only point at the parcels in her lap and say: “Open them! Open them, quick!”
Mrs. Rockwood was a woman who entered heart and soul into her daughter’s pleasures, and nothing was ever quite right in Jean’s eyes unless her mother shared it. Every little plan must be talked over with her, and it was pretty sure not to suffer any from one of her suggestions. Helen spent a great deal of time with Jean and was devoted to Mrs. Rockwood. Consequently, when the cameras arrived at the school that morning, and they found out that there was really no mistake, but that they were certainly intended for the persons whose names were so plainly written upon the boxes, and sent in Miss Preston’s care, they could hardly wait to get over to Jean’s house to show their treasures to her mother. Many had been the surmises as to whom had sent such beauties, but Toinette kept a perfectly sober face, and no one suspected the secret.
Carefully removing the wrappings, Mrs. Rockwood brought the contents of the boxes to view. She was as much surprised as the girls, and exclaimed: “Why, who could have sent them to you, and how did anyone learn that you were so anxious to have them? Such beauties, too!”
“That is the funniest part of it all, for we never told a soul, and didn’t mean to till we had them, and now here they are. I believe St. Nick must have heard us wishing for them,” said Helen.
“And to both of us, and just alike! Think of it! Oh, moddie, isn’t it lovely?” and Jean threw her arms about her mother’s neck by way of giving vent to her feelings.
“I’m as delighted as you and Helen are, dear, only I wish we might learn who our benefactor is.”
“Yes, isn’t it too bad. Well, it may crop out later. I thought first it must be Miss Preston, but she said that she did not know any more about it than we did,” said Helen.
“Now, when may we take our pictures, and what shall we take?” cried Jean.
“You suggest something, Mrs. Rockwood; it will be nicer if you do it,” said Helen, dropping down upon her knees beside Mrs. Rockwood, and placing her arm around her friend’s waist.
Mrs. Rockwood drew her close to her side as she replied:
“Let me examine these treasures which have arrived so mysteriously, read the directions concerning them, and then we’ll see what we’ll see,” and she began to read: “Take the camera into a perfectly dark closet, where no ray of light can penetrate (even covering the keyhole), and then place within it one of the sensitive plates, being careful not to expose the unused plates. Your camera is now ready to take the picture, etc.” “That is all very simple, I’m sure, and if the taking proves as simple as are the directions you need have little apprehension of failure. But your directions add very explicitly that you must not attempt to take a picture unless the day is sunny. So I fear those conditions preclude the possibility of your taking any upon this cloudy day, and you will have to possess your souls in peace till ‘Old Sol’ favors you.”
“Oh, dear, isn’t that too bad! I thought we could take some right off. Don’t you think we might at least try, mamma?”
“I fear they would prove failures; better wait a more favorable light.”
As though to tantalize frail humanity, “Old Sol” remained very exclusive all day, and, even though Helen remained till evening in the hope that he would overcome his fit of sulks, nothing of the kind happened, and she was forced to go back to the school without one.
“Just wait till Monday, and we’ll do wonders; see if we don’t,” said Jean, as she bade her farewell, little dreaming what wonders she was destined to do with her magical box ere the sun set Monday night.
“I’ll ask Miss Preston to let me come over at four o’clock on Monday, and then we’ll go out in the little dell and get a lovely picture. You know the place I mean: where that old clump of fir-trees stands by the ruined wall,” said artistic Helen.
But when Monday arrived unforeseen difficulties arose for Jean. The day was the sunniest ever known, and, while waiting for Helen to come, she got out the precious camera to set the plates.
“Why, mamma, there isn’t a dark closet in the whole house; not a single one,” cried Jean, coming into her mother’s room as she was dressing to go out on Monday afternoon. “Now, where in this world am I to open my plate-box, I’d like to know?”
Mrs. Rockwood laughed as she turned toward Jean, whose face was the picture of dismay. “True enough, there isn’t. Now, who would have supposed that the architect who designed this house, and put a window in every closet, could have been so short-sighted as not to anticipate such a need as the present one?”
“But what am I to do?” desperately.
“Try putting a dark covering over the windows.”
“I have, but it’s just no use, for I can’t get it pitch dark to save me.”
“And to think that barely forty-eight hours ago I was congratulating myself that every closet in the house could be properly aired. Alas! how do our recent acquisitions alter our views?”
“Now, moddie, don’t laugh, but stop teasing me, and just think as hard as ever you can how I am to find a dark place.”
Mrs. Rockwood thought for a few moments, and then said:
“I have it! Mary’s pot-closet, under the back stairs; that is as dark as a pocket, I’m sure.”
“There! I knew you’d find a way; you always do. Just the very place, and now I’m going straight down to fix it. Good-bye,” and, kissing her mother, away she flew.