Women have no heads for the law. I could not make Jane see that to buy a dormouse with the funds of the camera would be an irregular and punishable proceeding. Finally, in despair, I had to promise to ask her uncle if he would recognise the application of one quarter's payment to the purchase of a dormouse. He acceded to the somewhat unusual request with his customary good-nature.
"But remember," I told Jane, "the next instalment must be spent on the camera."
Slowly but surely, however, the camera fell into disuse. I was asked more rarely, and more rarely still, to look through prints. At last I was asked no more.
Then the third instalment arrived.
"You want some more paper and things by now, I suppose?" I said encouragingly.
"The light hasn't been good lately," said Jane evasively. "I've not been taking many photos."
"Then what are you going to do with the money?"
"Ask Uncle if I may buy a stamp-album."
Shortly after this, Jane's uncle's birthday came round. I passed a shop in the City which had recently had a fire. Five hundred silver cigarette-cases had been pluckily rescued from the flames and, to celebrate their escape, were being offered for sale at a remarkably low figure. One of these survivors was dispatched to Jane's uncle.