“You’d get tired of us, sir,” suggested Tod Brown. “We’re not always on such good behaviour.”
“Ain’t, hey? Well, I calk’late you’re always perty good. Good enough, anyway. Don’t want childrun too good.”
“Small danger of that, Uncle Jim,” cried Dolly, laughing. “We’re none of us sprouting wings yet!”
“Except Gracie, there!” and Uncle Jim laughed at his Fairy niece.
“Sure enough, I forgot Grace’s wings. But she’ll moult ’em off to-morrow, and be no more angelic than the rest of us.”
“You’re all good enough for me. I think you’re as fine a lot of little misses and masters as ever I see. I’d like a picture of ye.”
“And you’re going to have one, Uncle,” said Mr. Rawlins, rising from the table.
Soon, with the help of Uncle Jim’s man he had put in position a camera, and bidding them pose, he took two or three flash-light pictures, which caused great exclamations and startled shrieks.
“Those things scare me to death, don’t they you?” said Bernice to Reggie Stuart, who sat at her other side.
“No,” he returned, rather uninterestedly. “I’m sort of used to ’em. I’ve been taken a lot of times that way.”