"I'd like to take his photo while I've got the camera with me," said Marjorie. "Can you turn the pram round a little—so? That's better. I don't want the sun right in his face, it makes him screw up his eyes. Now, Eric, look at me, and put on your best smile. I'm just going——"
"Wait a moment," interrupted Dona. "Look what's coming up the road. You've only two films, remember!"
A contingent of German prisoners were being marched from the station to the camp on the moors. They were tramping along under an escort of soldiers.
"Oh, I must snap them!" exclaimed Marjorie. "But I'll have Eric in the photo too. I can just get them all in."
She moved her position slightly, and pressed her button, then, rapidly winding on the films to the next number, took a second snapshot.
"The light was excellent, and they ought to come out," she triumphed. "How jolly to have got a photo of the prisoners! Eric, you were looking just fine."
"We must be getting on home," said Lizzie. "I've a lot of cleaning to do this afternoon when I get back. Say good-bye to the ladies, Eric."
The little fellow held up his face to be kissed, and Marjorie and Dona hugged him, regardless of spectators on the road.
"You dear wee thing, take care of yourself," said Dona. "Call at the kiosk next time you pass, and perhaps another parcel will have arrived from fairyland."
"I know who the fairies are!" laughed Eric, as his perambulator moved away.