About Peggy Saville Part 5

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 gla.s.s!

"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 tried in vain to carry off his mistake with a jaunty air. Now that he came to think of it, he believed you _did_ mix the two developers together! Just at the moment he had forgotten the proportions, but he would go outside and look it up in the book; and he beat a hasty retreat, glad to escape from the scene of his failure. It was rather a disconcerting beginning; but hope revived once more when Oswald returned, primed with information from the _Photographic Manual_, and Peggy's plates were taken from their case and put into the bath.

This time the result was slow in coming. Five minutes went by, and no signs of a picture--ten minutes, a quarter of an hour.

"It's a good thing to develop slowly; you get the details better," said Oswald, in so professional a manner that he was instantly reinstated in public confidence; but when twenty minutes had pa.s.sed, he looked perturbed, and thought he would use a little more of the hastener. The bath was strengthened and strengthened, but still no signs of a picture.

The plate was put away in disgust, and the second one tried with a like result. So far as it was possible to judge, there was nothing to be developed on the plate.

"A nice photographer you are, I must say! What are you playing at now?"

asked Max, in scornful impatience; and Oswald turned severely to Peggy--

"Which shutter did you draw out? The one nearest to yourself?"

"Yes, I did--of course I did!"

"You drew out the nearest to you, and the farthest away from the lens?"

"Precisely--I told you so!" and Peggy bridled with an air of virtue.

"Then no wonder nothing has come out! You have drawn out the wrong shutter each time, and the plates have never been exposed. They are wasted! That's fivepence simply _thrown_ away, to say nothing of the chemicals!"

His air of aggrieved virtue; Peggy's little face staring at him, aghast with horror; the thought of four plates being used and leaving not a vestige of a result, were all too funny to be resisted. Mellicent went off into irrepressible giggles; Max gave a loud "Ha, ha!" and once again a mischievous whisper sounded in Peggy's ear--

"Good for you, Mariquita! What about the 'conversational annotations'?"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

PEGGY SHOWS HERSELF IN HER TRUE COLOURS.

The photographic fever burnt fiercely for the next few weeks. Every spare hour was devoted to the camera, and there was not a person in the house, from the vicar himself to the boy who came in to clean boots and knives, who had not been pressed to repeated sittings. There were no more blank plates, but there were some double ones which had been twice exposed, and showed such a kaleidoscopic jumble of heads and legs as was as good as any professional puzzle; but, besides these, there were a number of groups where the likenesses were quite recognisable, though scarcely flattering enough to be pleasant to the originals. There was quite a scene in the dining-room on the evening when Oswald came down in triumph and handed round the proofs of the first presentable group, over which he had been busy all the afternoon.

"Oh, oh, oh! I'm an old woman, and I never knew it!" cried Mrs Asplin, staring in dismay at the haggard-looking female who sat in the middle of the group, with heavy, black shadows on cheeks and temple. The vicar cast a surrept.i.tious glance in the gla.s.s above the sideboard, and tried to straighten his bent shoulders, while Mellicent's cheeks grew scarlet with agitation, and the tears were in her voice, as she cried--

"I look like a p-p-pig! It's not a bit like! A nasty, horrid, fat, puffy pig!"

"I don't care about appearances; but mine is not in the least like,"

Esther said severely. "I am sure no one could recognise it; I look seventy-eight at the very least."

Robert flicked the paper across the table with a contemptuous "Bah!" and Max laughed in his easy, jolly manner, and said--

"Now I know how I shall look when my brain softens! I'm glad I've seen it; it will be a lesson to me to take things easily, and not over-study."

"But look at the leaves of the ivy," protested Oswald, in aggrieved self-vindication, "each one quite clear and distinct from the others; it's really an uncommonly good plate. The detail is perfect. Look at that little bunch of flowers at the corner of the bed!" All in vain, however, did he point out the excellences of his work. The victims refused to look at the little bunch of flowers. Each one was occupied with staring at his own portrait; the Asplin family sighing and protesting, and Peggy placidly poking a pin through the eyes of the various sitters, and holding the paper to the light to view the effect.

It was a little trying to the feelings of one who had taken immense pains over his work, and had given up a bicycle ride to sit for a whole afternoon in a chilly pantry, dabbling in cold water, and watching over the various processes. Oswald was ruffled, and showed it more plainly than was altogether courteous.

"I'm sorry you're not pleased," he said coldly. "I aim at truthfulness, you see, and that is what you don't get from a professional photograph.

It's no good wasting time, simply to get oneself disliked. I'll go in for Nature, and leave the portrait business to somebody else. The girls can try! They think they can do everything!"

Peggy looked at Esther, and Esther looked at Peggy. They did not say a word, but a flash of understanding pa.s.sed from the brown eyes to the grey, which meant that they were on their mettle. They were not going to defend themselves, but henceforth it was a case of die or produce a good photograph, and so oblige Oswald to alter his tone of scornful incredulity.

For the next week the camera was the one engrossing thought. Every minute that could be spared was devoted to experiments, so that Fraulein complained that lessons were suffering in consequence. The hearts of her pupils were not in their work, she declared; it would be a good thing if a rule could be made that no more photographs were to be taken until the Christmas holidays. She looked very fierce and formidable as she spoke, but soft-hearted Mrs Asplin put in a plea for forgiveness.

"Ah, well, then, have patience for a few days longer," she begged.

"They are just children with a new toy; let them have as much of it as they will at first, and they will tire of their own accord, and settle down to work as well as ever. We can control their actions, but not their thoughts; and I'm afraid if I forbade photography at present, you would find them no more interested in lessons. I fancy there is something especially engrossing on hand this week, and we might as well let them have it out."

Even Mrs Asplin, however, hardly realised the thoroughness with which the girls were setting to work to achieve their end. They held a committee meeting on Esther's bed, sitting perched together in att.i.tudes of inelegant comfort, with arms encircling their knees, and chins resting on the clasped hands, wherein it was proposed and seconded that Peggy, the artistic, should pose and take the sitters, while Esther, the accurate, should undertake the after-processes.

"And what am I to do?" cried Mellicent plaintively; and her elders smiled upon her with patronising encouragement.

"You shall wash up all the trays and gla.s.ses, and put them neatly away."

"You shall carry the heavy things, dear, and stand to me for your back hair. I think I could make a really good effect with your back hair."

Peggy put her head on one side and stared at the flaxen mane in speculative fashion. "A long muslin gown--a wreath of flowers--a bunch of lilies in your hands! If you weren't so fat, you would do splendiforously for Ophelia. I might manage it, perhaps, if I took you from the back, with your head turned over your shoulder, so as to show only the profile. Like that! Don't move now, but let me see how you look." She took Mellicent's head between her hands as she spoke, wagged it to and fro, as if it belonged to a marionette, and then gave a frog-like leap to a farther corner of the bed to study the effect. "A little more to the right. Chin higher! Look at the ceiling. Yes-es--I can do it. I see how it can be done."

It turned out, indeed, that Peggy had a genius for designing and posing pretty, graceful pictures. With a few yards of muslin and a basket, or such odds and ends of rubbish as horrified Esther's tidy soul to behold, she achieved marvels in the way of fancy costumes, and transformed the placid Mellicent into a dozen different characters: Ophelia, crowned with flowers; Marguerite, pulling the petals of a daisy; Hebe, bearing a basket of fruit on her head, and many other fanciful impersonations, were improvised and taken before the week was over. She went about the work in her usual eager, engrossed, happy-go-lucky fashion, sticking pins by the dozen into Mellicent's flesh in the ardour of arrangement, and often making a really charming picture, only to spoil it at the last moment by a careless movement, which altered the position of the camera, and so omitted such important details as the head of the sitter, or left her squeezed into one corner of the picture, like a sparrow on the house-top.

Out of a dozen photographs, three, however, were really remarkable successes; as pretty pictures as one could wish to see, and, moreover, exceedingly good likenesses of the bonnie little subject. Esther's part of the work was performed with her usual conscientious care; and when the last prints were mounted, the partners gazed at them with rapture and pride. They were exhibited at the dinner-table the same evening amid a scene of riotous excitement. The vicar glowed with pleasure; Mrs Asplin called out, "Oh, my baby! Bless her heart!" and whisked away two tears of motherly pride. Oswald was silent and subdued; and even Robert said, "Humph--it's not so bad," a concession which turned the girls' heads by its wonderful magnanimity.

Their triumph was almost sweeter than they had expected; but, truth to tell, they had had too much of photography during the last week, and Mrs Asplin's prophecy came true, inasmuch as it now ceased to become an occupation of absorbing interest, and a.s.sumed its rightful place as an amus.e.m.e.nt to be enjoyed now and then, as opportunity afforded.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE HONOURABLE ROSALIND.

By the beginning of October Peggy had quite settled down in her new home, and had established her right to be Arthur Saville's sister by convulsing the quiet household with her tricks and capers. She was affectionate, obedient, and strictly truthful; her prim little face, grandiose expressions, and merry ways, made her a favourite with everyone in the house, from the vicar, who loved to converse with her in language even more high-flown than her own, to the old North-country cook, who confided in the housemaid that she "fair-ly did love that little thing," and manoeuvred to have apple charlotte for dinner as often as possible, because the "little thing" had praised her prowess in that direction, and commended the charlotte as a "delicious confection."

Mrs Asplin was specially tender over the girl who had been left in her charge, and, in return, Peggy was all that was sweet and affectionate, vowed that she could never do enough to repay such kindness, and immediately fell into a fresh pickle, and half frightened the life out of her companions by her hairbreadth escapes. Her careless, happy-go-lucky ways seemed all the more curious because of the almost Quaker-like neatness of her appearance. Mellicent was often untidy, and even Esther had moments of dishevelment, but Peggy was a dainty little person, whose hair was always smooth, whose dress well brushed and natty. Her artistic sense was too keen to allow of any shortcoming in this respect; but she seemed blessed with a capacity of acting before she thought, which had many disastrous consequences. She was by no means a robust girl, and Mrs Asplin fussed over her little ailments like an old mother-hen with a delicate nursling. One prescription after another was unearthed for her benefit, until the washstand in her room looked like a small chemist's shop. An array of doctor's tinctures, gargles, and tonics, stood on one side, while on the other were a number of home-made concoctions in disused wine-bottles, such as a paregoric cough-mixture, and a cooling draught to be taken the first thing in the morning, which last pretended to be lemonade, but in reality contained a number of medicinal powders. "Take it up tenderly, treat it with care!"

was Peggy's motto with respect to this last-named medicine, for she had discovered that by judicious handling it was possible to enjoy a really tasty beverage, and to leave the sediment untouched at the bottom of the bottle!

Esther and Mellicent were almost equally well supplied by their anxious mother, but their bottles behaved in a well-regulated fashion, and never took upon themselves to play tricks, while those in Peggy's room seemed infected by the spirit of the owner, and amused themselves with seeing how much mischief they could accomplish. A bottle of ammonia had been provided as a cure for bites of gnats and flies; Peggy flicked a towel more hastily than usual, and down it fell, the contents streaming over the wood, and splashing on to the wardrobe near at hand, with the consequence that every sign of polish was removed, and replaced by white unsightly stains. The gla.s.s stopper of a smelling-salts bottle became fixed in its socket, and, being anointed with oil and placed before the fire to melt, popped out suddenly with a noise as of a cannon shot, aimed accurately for the centre of the mirror, and smashed it into a dozen pieces. The "safety ink-pot," out of which she indited her letters to her mother, came unfastened of its own accord and rolled up and down the clean white toilet cover. This, at least, was the impression left by Peggy's innocent protestations, while the gas and soap seemed equally obstinate--the one refusing to be lowered when she left the room, and the other insisting upon melting itself to pieces in her morning bath!

"Mrs Saville was right--Peggy is a most expensive person!" cried Mrs Asplin in dismay, when the bills for repairs came in; but when the vicar suggested the advisability of a reproof, she said, "Oh, poor child; she is so lonely--I haven't the heart to scold her;" and Peggy continued to detail accounts of her latest misfortune with an air of exaggerated melancholy, which barely concealed the underlying satisfaction. It required a philosophic mind to be able to take damages to personal property in so amiable a fashion; but occasionally Peggy's pickles took an irresistibly comical character. The story was preserved in the archives of the family of one evening when the three girls had been sent upstairs to wash their abundant locks and dry them thoroughly before retiring to bed. A fire was kindled in the old nursery, which was now used as a sewing-room, and Mrs Asplin, who understood nothing if it was not the art of making young folks happy, had promised a supper of roast apples and cream when the drying process was finished.

Esther and Mellicent were squatted on the hearth, in their blue dressing-gowns, when in tripped Peggy, fresh as a rose, in a long robe of furry white, tied round the waist with a pink cord. One bath-towel was round her shoulders, and a smaller one extended in her hands, with the aid of which she proceeded to perform a fancy dance, calling out instructions to herself the while, in imitation of the dancing-school mistress. "To the right--two--three! To the left--two--three! Spring!

Pirouette! Atti-tude!" She stood poised on one foot, towel waving above her head, damp hair dripping down her back, while Esther and Mellicent shrieked with laughter, and drummed applause with heel and toe. Then she flopped down on the centre of the hearth, and there was an instantaneous exclamation of dismay.

"Phew! What a funny smell! Phew! Phew! Whatever can it be?"

"I smelt it too. Peggy, what have you been doing? It's simply awful!"

"Hair-wash, I suppose, or the soap--I noticed it myself. It will pa.s.s off," said Peggy easily; but at that moment Mrs Asplin entered the room, sniffed the air, and cried loudly--

"Bless me, what's this? A regular Apothecaries' Hall! Paregoric! It smells as if someone had been drinking quarts of paregoric! Peggy, child, your throat is not sore again?"

"Not at all, thank you. Quite well. I have taken no medicine to-day."