CHAPTER XXIII
A CAMERA’S CAPERS.
“Mary!” cried Jean, as she bounced into the kitchen, where the maid, a typical “child of Erin,” who worshipped the very ground Jean trod upon, stood at the sink paring her “taties” for the evening meal, “see my new camera; I’m going to take a picture with it, and I’ve got to go into your pot-closet to fix the plates.”
“A picter, is it? And will ye be afther takin’ a picter wid that schmall bit av a black box? How do ye do it at all, I do’ know.”
“Oh, I go into a dark closet and put a gelatine plate in the box, and then I go outdoors and take my picture.”
“A gilitin plate, is it? Thin, faith, ye’ll take ne’er a picter this day, for Oi’m jist afther usin’ the last schrap av gilitin in the house to make the wine jilly fer the dinner.”
“I don’t mean that kind of gelatine; the kind I use is already prepared on little plates in this box, and I have to go in the dark closet to fix them.”
“Faith, I’d fix thim out here, thin, where ye can see what ye’re about. It’s dungeon dhark in the pot-closet.”
“That is exactly what I want, and, please, don’t come near it, or open the door while I’m in there, will you?”
“No, no; I’ll not come near ye. The minute I’ve done me taties it’s down in the laundry Oi’m goin’, an’ Oi’ll not bother ye at all; but here, take this schmall, little candle wid ye whan ye go in, fer it’s that dhark ye’ll not see yer hand forninst ye,” and she caught up a candle from the shelf.