"The first one is bound to be a failure," I pointed out. "Rather let him fail at us, who are known to be beautiful, than at the garden, which has its reputation yet to make. Afterwards, when he has got the knack, he will be able to do justice to the scenery."
Archie joined us again, followed by the bull-dog. We grouped ourselves picturesquely.
"That looks ripping," said Simpson. "Oh, look here, Myra, do you—No, don't come; you'll spoil the picture. I suppose you have to—oh, it's all right, I think I've got it."
"I shan't try to look handsome this time," said Archie; "it's not worth it. I shall just put an ordinary blurred expression on."
"Now, are you ready? Don't move. Quite still, please; quite—"
"It's instantaneous, you know," said Myra gently.
This so unnerved Simpson that he let the thing off without any further warning, before we had time to get our expressions natural.
"That was all right, Myra, wasn't it?" he said proudly.
"I'm—I'm afraid you had your hand over the lens, Samuel dear."
"Our new photographic series: 'Palms of the Great.' No. 1, Mr. S.
Simpson's," murmured Archie.