The young man insisted, and at last Bob consented to give him a sitting.
With great care Bob adjusted his focus, and gave his customer what he considered an artistic pose. In a minute more two plates were taken.
“How about proofs?” asked the youth, as the young man pulled out his watch and then a roll of bills.
“I haven’t time to come for them. How much will the dozen be?”
“Four dollars and a half.”
“Here’s your money. Send that picture to my home on Mountain Avenue. My name is Ralph Maverick.”
And before Bob could say a word, the young man was gone.
“Ralph Maverick,” murmured Bob to himself. “I wonder if he is any relation to Grace? The two look a little alike. Perhaps they are sister and brother.”
When Mr. Starleigh returned, Bob related what he had done. The old photographer lost no time in looking at the plates and developing them.
“One is no good, but the other is excellent,” he said. “You gave him a first-rate pose, Bob. Get a frame and some paper, and we will print a couple at once. You’ll soon be a full-fledged photographer, and I’m glad of it, for Sidler drinks so much I’ll have to discharge him.”