“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Betty penitently.
“It isn’t as though it would have been a common picture either,” continued Austin stonily; “we’ve lost a really good thing. Not so much a snow-effect as a figure-study, with mist and clouds and poplars.”
Betty was overwhelmed with shame.
“If only I could have made up my mind!” broke out the artist bitterly. “If only I could have made up my mind a moment sooner, I should have capped the lens and saved my best picture!”
“Austin dear,” remarked Frances quietly, “you have six plates in your slides.”
This simple speech effected an immediate transformation. Austin remembered that his little all in the way of plates had not been torn from him. Betty recovered her spirits, and having magnanimously offered to “stand out, in case she spoilt another”, was warmly pressed to remain in and be immortalized. Frances suggested that, after removing the cap, Austin should count ten under his breath, and then do the deed. Florry added the useful hint that if Betty did not fix her gaze on the photographer’s worried countenance she might be better able to control her own.
“Very well,” said Austin graciously, “you may turn your head just a trifle, Betty, and stare at that fir-tree. But I must have your eyes on the camera, Florry; and I’d like one or two of your curling locks pulled over your shoulder to show in front. I want to take your long hair and your animated expression. I believe,” finished Austin joyfully, “this picture will be better than the other. I hadn’t remembered the ‘pictorial value’ of Florry’s curls!”
After several agitated moments, the photographer announced that his mission was accomplished.
“I don’t believe any of you turned a hair,” he remarked gratefully. “I’m no end obliged to you. Let’s all tear off home and develop this plate.”
“Oh, Austin!” remonstrated Frances; “you’re always in such a hurry! Do let’s take some more pictures first.”