“Brenda,” said Mrs. Barlow, from the front seat, thus interrupting any question that Julia might have asked, “remind me, when we reach Marblehead, to stop at Crowther’s, as I wrote them last night to have a prescription put up for me.”
“Yes, ’m,” replied Brenda. “I must get some film there, too; I’m thankful that in this part of the country the apothecaries keep photographers’ supplies. I have n’t a single bit of film left, and it would he an awful waste of opportunity not to get any pictures to-day.”
“How many rolls of film have you used up this summer, Brenda; and how many photographs have you to show?” asked Mr. Barlow, with mock seriousness.
“Oh, papa, one never keeps any account of the film she uses. I ’ll probably use much more when I begin to develop the negatives myself. No; but really I don’t lose so very many, and I don’t think it’s fair to laugh at me.”
“Why, no, Brenda; sometimes you do try to be economical. What was it I heard about your trying to use the same roll twice the other day? ”
“Oh, papa, who told you that?” and Brenda herself could not help smiling at the remembrance.
“A girl of your age,” said her mother, “ought to have more system. I suppose that hardly any one else would keep used and unused rolls of film in the same drawer.”
“Well, I’m trying to be more careful now. It was pretty hard, the other day, to find that I had spoiled all
