selves in the dark room, to watch the process of development,
indulging the while in the most flowery expectations.

"If it is very good, let me send it to an illustrated paper. Oh, do!"
said Mellicent, with a gush. "I have often seen groups of people in
them. `The thing-a-me-bob touring company,' and stupid old cricketers,
and things like that. We should be far more interesting."

"It will make a nice present for mother, enlarged and mounted," said
Peggy thoughtfully. "I shall keep an album of my own, and mount every
single picture we take. If there are any failures, I shall put them in
too, for they will make it all the more amusing. Photograph albums are
horribly uninteresting as a rule, but mine shall be quite different.
There shall be nothing stiff and prim about it; the photographs shall be
dotted about in all sorts of positions, and underneath each I shall put
in--ah--conversational annotations." Her tongue lingered over the words
with triumphant enjoyment. "Conversational annotations, describing the
circumstances under which it was taken, and anything about it which is
worth remembering... What are you going to do with those bottles?"

Oswald ruffled his hair in embarrassment. To pose as an instructor in
an art, when one is in doubt about its very rudiments, is a position
which has its drawbacks.

"I don't--quite--know. The stupid fellow has written instructions on
all the other labels, and none on these except simply `Developer Number
1' and `Developer Number 2'; I think the only difference is that one is
rather stronger than the other. I'll put some of the Number 2 in a
dish, and see what happens; I believe that's the right way--in fact, I'm
sure it is. You pour it over the plate and jog it about, and in two or
three minutes the picture ought to begin to appear. Like this!"

Five eager faces peered over his shoulders, rosy red in the light of the
lamp; five pairs of lips uttered a simultaneous "Oh!" of surprise; five
cries of dismay followed in instant echo. It was the tragedy of a
second. Even as Oswald poured the fluid over the plate, a picture
flashed before their eyes, each one saw and recognised some fleeting
feature; and, in the very moment of triumph, lo, darkness, as of night,
a sheet of useless, blackened glass!

"What about the conversational annotations?" asked Robert slily; but he
was interrupted by a storm of indignant queries, levied at the head of
the poor operator, who tri