“No, no! I don’t want any light; the darker it is the better.”
“It’s crackin’ yer head aff ye’ll be.”
“No, I sha’n’t,” said Jean, as she whisked into the closet and drew the door together just as Mary started down the back stairs to the laundry.
Had the closet been designed for an eel-pot it would have proved the most complete success, for getting into it was a very simple matter, whereas, getting out required considerable ingenuity. Absorbed in the one idea of getting the plates placed in the camera, Jean entirely forgot the peculiarities of the fastening upon the door. As she slammed it together every ray of light vanished, and she was instantly enveloped in an Egyptian darkness. Carefully opening her box, she drew from it one of the plates, touched it with her fingers to find which side was coated with the gelatine preparation, placed it in the camera and turned to leave the closet.
“Now, I’ll have a picture in just about two jiffs,” she said, and pushed against the door. To her surprise, it did not open. Another push, with the same result. It then dawned upon her that the spring-bolt had fastened upon the outer side. Feeling carefully about in the pitch darkness, she laid her things upon the shelf and tried to find a way of getting out. But, push, shake and rattle as she might, it was useless; the door remained tightly fastened.
“Mary,” she called, “come and let me out, please.”
No response.
“M-a-r-y! I’m locked in; come let me out!”
“What in the whorld is the matter wid ye?” came from the foot of the stairs.
“I’m locked in and can’t get out; come and open the door!”