ABOVE the stalls in Dr. Hartel’s stable were three rooms, in one of which a coach-man used to sleep in the days when the place had been used by Judge Solling. The two other rooms were only partly finished. In one of these was a sink with running water, which had long been marked in Allan’s fancy as the focal point of the dark-room.
“We can’t fix anything here to-night,” said Owen.
“Of course not,” admitted Allan.
Owen had carried over two trays, “one for developing and the other for fixing,” and at his suggestion Allan procured an “agate iron” tray from the kitchen to wash the plates in. “Mind you fetch it back!” said Nora.
“Is it dark enough here?” asked Allan, turning to the back windows.
“Yes,” answered Owen; “but in the daytime you would have to cover up the windows in some way, and keep the daylight in the front rooms from getting in around these doors.”
Meanwhile Owen, in the red light of his lamp, was fussing with two bottles, a proceeding which excited the greatest interest on the part of the two other boys. Allan often had seen his father make chemical experiments, and he had seen Owen develop once before; but he was not a photographer then, and had not watched each motion with the same feeling of concern and anticipation.
“I forgot my graduate,” Owen complained.
“Shall I get one of father’s?” asked Allan.