“Oh, crikey! Why didn’t you tell me when I handed you the wretched thing?”
“I never looked at the lens. I thought you would have made sure you had everything before you came downstairs. Not that I need have thought so,” added Frances grimly. “Last time, you forgot the dark cloth; and the time before, when Max was with us, don’t you remember—?”
“There you are again with your ‘rememberings’!” muttered Austin. “A fellow can’t be expected to keep his wits about him with you and Max chattering like fun.”
“Oh, I dare say!” laughed Frances. “Here, take the camera, and I’ll run back for the cap.”
“Hang it, can’t I use my hand? I’m sure I’d cover the lens all right.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t! Wait, and I won’t be long.”
Frances scudded away, but when she had gone almost out of sight, suddenly turned and scudded back again.
“I suppose you have filled the slides?” she inquired.
“Filled them!” ejaculated Austin. “Why,” he began lamely, “weren’t they full? I never thought of that. And I want slow plates.”
“You dreadful goose!” cried Frances; and picking up the slides, she raced away again.