“Now,” said Rex, when all was in readiness; “you mustn't move, not one of you.”
“C-c-can we w-w-wink?” stuttered Madge.
“Are we forlorn enough and sorrowful enough?” asked Nan.
“How do I look?” urged Harry, who stood balanced on the look-out in the stiffest of positions.
“Oh, you are all right,” Regie answered, collectively; “now, still, every one of you.”
Trembling with excitement he uncapped the lens, while he counted one, two, three, four, which were supposed to cover two seconds in time'; and then pop! on went the cap again, but alas! the picture was not taken. Rex had forgotten to draw out the slide which would let the picture in on the plate; but before he had time to announce his discovery the children had abandoned their positions in the boat, and were crowding once again around the camera.
Regie hated to acknowledge his carelessness. He was loth to take a single step down from the pinnacle on which the children had placed him because of his acquaintance with the photographing art, but it had to be done.
“You'll all have to go back and be taken over again,” he said, disconsolately. “I didn't get any picture that time, because I forgot to do something I ought to.”
The children marched back to the boat, but with faith evidently weakened in the real ability of this would-be photographer. It took some time to gain the properly forlorn expression and look of general despondency, but at last all was in readiness, and the picture was taken.
“Now change your positions and smile like everything,” called Rex, “as though you saw the steamer that is going to rescue you coming toward you, and I'll take the other picture in a jiffy.”