“Just you try that again,” said Barbara, looking furious.
Cavallius stooped under the black velvet cloth such as all photographers have over their cameras.
“Look a little pleasant, now,” he said in a coaxing voice as if to a child.
“Look pleasant? At you? Humph! I’d like to catch myself!” Her face was like a thunder-cloud.
“Oh! Oh! I shall split my sides laughing,” said Massa. “Oh! Oh!”
“May I ask the ladies up there to indulge us with their absence?” said Cavallius.
Oh! how we laughed! No, it was altogether too amusing for us to be willing to leave. “No, Cavallius, we’re not going; do not imagine that we are.” Of course we did not dare to say that aloud.
Repeated exhortations to Barbara from Cavallius to look pleasant. Barbara looked, if possible, still more angry, and assured him most positively that if there was anything in the world she would not do, it was to look pleasant “at such a one as you.”
Massa and I laughed till we were worn out with it.
“That’s right, Barbara,” shouted Massa, “look more fierce. Don’t give in, Barbara.”