“We must take all sorts of things, Cricket,” said Eunice, when the children had trooped away down the street, with Johnnie-goat marching sedately behind them, with now and then a sudden frisk of his hind legs in the air, and then such an instant return of his composure, that you doubted the evidence of your eyes.
“There are only a dozen pictures on one roll, you know, and we want a good variety. Aren’t you just wild to develop them? I am. It sounds so grown-up to talk of the chemicals and the ‘hypo.’”
“What is the ‘hypo?’” asked Cricket, as they went down the street in search of a good subject.
“Why, just hypo, I suppose. I don’t believe it’s anything in particular,” said Eunice vaguely.
“Donald said Marjorie had the hypo yesterday,” said Cricket thoughtfully, “when she was sort of dumpy all day. But I suppose it isn’t the same kind.”
“No, of course not, goosie. The hypo is that white powder that comes with all the things. Didn’t you notice it? Perhaps Donald meant that Marjorie had been taking some. Oh, look! wouldn’t that corner of the little park make the sweetest picture? Let’s take it!”
“Yes, let’s! and that’s two,” added Cricket, when the picture was secured. “Isn’t this exciting? Can’t I take the next one, Eunice? Just let me look at the pamphlet a moment to see something.”
Cricket buried herself in the book of instructions for a moment, then darted tragically at the camera.
“Oh, Eunice! See! the pamphlet says that after you take a picture, you must turn the key around three or four times, till the next number appears before the little window, and that will put a new film ready; and we never did it! What do you s’pose it will be?”
The two girls stared at each other in dismay.