“We’ll promise about the closet,” said Eunice hastily, to prevent further inconvenient questions. “We’ll take the things out carefully; and may we take the little nursery table to lay our trays on? It’s just large enough to fit.”
These matters being settled, the two girls, as soon as luncheon was over, eagerly began their preparations. They had a free field, for mamma and Marjorie had gone to a matinée, and Eliza had taken the children to the park for the afternoon. The housemaid’s closet in the bathroom was soon cleared of its brooms and dustpans, and the small, low table from the nursery was brought in. The little trays that came with the outfit, the bottles of chemicals and “hypo” were duly arranged on it.
“There!” said Eunice, surveying the preparations with a professional eye. “Everything is ready, I think. Let me see,” consulting the pamphlet. “‘Also provide a pair of shears, a pitcher of cold water, and a dark room having a shelf or table’—yes, all here. Trays, stirring rod, chemicals, and when we shut the door we have our dark room—why, Cricket!” with a sudden exclamation of dismay.
CHAPTER II.
A DISCOVERY IN FILMS.
Eunice’s exclamation was caused by the fact that when she suited the action to the word, and shut the door, they were, of course, in total darkness.
“I should say so,” returned Cricket, blankly. “Not being cats, we can’t see in ’Gyptian darkness. Do open the door. We’ll have to get a lamp.”
“No, we mustn’t,” answered Eunice, opening the door, and consulting the pamphlet. “It says, ‘neither daylight nor lamplight.’ It ought to be a red light, like this one in the picture.”
Although the children did not know it, such a lamp had come with the outfit, but when Donald unpacked the things he had left it in his own room.
“We might get a lantern from the kitchen,” went on Eunice, “and wrap it with a red cloth. That will do. Will you go for the lantern while I get the red cloth?”
Cricket flew off, and returned in two minutes with the lantern.