THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S ASSISTANT.

Otago Witness, Issue 1898, 19 June 1890, Page 38

THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S ASSISTANT.

•• I'm sure you'll like her," said Aunt Jane. " She's beautiful "

"la she, aunt 7" I replied. " Well, I like beautiful girls." " A blonde, with hair like spun gold "

" Which is false," I added,

" No, indeed. And a complexion which is simply exquisite. And, what is more to the purpose, she has property." " Well, I don't object to property."

"Of course not. My dear boy, it's the chief end of my existence to see you well settled in life." " What's her name 7 " I asked.

"Jenny Pugsley.''

•' Jenny what 7 " I cried. %" Pugsley ; of course it can be easily changed to Johnson." " Oh 1 of course." " Where are you'going, Charles 1 " " To have my pictures taken," I replied, as I left the room.

" Hello, Frank I " I called out some 15 or 20 minutes later, as I entered a cosy little photograph gallery. " I want my picture taken,"

" Well, you can't have it," replied Frank Dale. "At least, not at present. Are you in a hurry ? "

11 Not vitally."

"Well, then, just sit down and mind the place for me half an hour, will you 7 I'm going out."

" Where's your assistant 7 "

" Oh, he has made free with my cash drawer, and been brought up short at the Tombs. That's my business this morning.

And away he went, while I reclined on the sofa. I was getting rather tired of waiting when footsteps sounded in the hall. I rose rather awkwardly as two young ladies came in.

One was a radiant blonde, with long tresaes of golden hair; the other a brownhaired, hazel-eyed damsel with a dangerous dimple lurking at the corner of her red lips.

"Can we have our pictures taken this morning ? " asked the fairer of the twain.

"In one moment, ma'am," I answered. " The proprietor has stepped out ; he will be here very soon."

" Shall we wait, Beck 7 " she asked, turning to her companion.

"We may as well," said the other. " It's a very reasonable place, and by the time you've fixed your hair I daresay the man will be in/

And the two young ladies sailed past me into the little dressing room, not even taking the trouble to close the door.

"Hadn't you better, Jenny?" asked the younger, with a motion of her head toward the door. " And make it as dark as Egypt. Who cares for a photographer's assistant ? "

I felt the colour mount to my cheek at the tone of contempt, but it turned redder as the hazel-eyed damsel called out :

" Why, Jenny Pugsley, you left the bandoline bottle at home 1"

-"No, I didn't; it's in the pocket of my sacquel "

" Aha ! " thought I, "so this is my intended that is to be 1 "

" Can't you bring us another lookingglass, young man ? " called out Miss Pugsley. I looked around, and, seeing nothing but the big mirror between the windows, shouldered it, and staggered into the dressing room beneath its weight.

"My goodness ! " cried Jenny. " I never saw anything so stupid in my life. Of course I meant a hand glass." " A tumbler ? " "No ! nothing of the sort 1 1 meant a little looking-glass."

" Ah !" I replied, " you didn't mention the size."

Miss Jenny Pugsley stood facing me with the golden fleece of floating hair in one hand, and a long braid hanging over her arm, while her companion was busy brushing over a thick stick the curl which had rested coquettishly on her left shoulder.

"Where's the rouge, Beck?" said Miss Pugsley, a few moments later.

"La!" oried Beck, "I declare I forgot it."

" How could you 1 I wouldn't have washed my face if I'd known there wasn't any more colour. I shall be pale as a ghost 1"

"The photographer can touch up the cheeks of the picture," consoled her friend.

At this stage of the proceedings I was aroused from a sort of trance by my friend's hand on my shoulder.

" Hello, old fellow 1 Any customers 1 "

For an answer I pointed towards the open door of the dressing room, and then made my escape as fast as I could. "She's here!" cried Aunt Jane, as she rushed into my sanctum. " Hair and all ? " I inquired. "Of course, hair and all I What do yeu mean 1 "

" All right, aunt. I'll be down presently."

Miss Pugsley looked up with an artless smile as I entered the room, but she started perceptibly as I approached her.

" Beck,! " she cried huskily to a young lady in the background, " it's the young man of the photograph gallery I "

"The photographer's assistant,* Miss Pugsley," I said quietly.

" What are you talking about ? " demanded Aunt Jane.

" We're only rehearsing characters," I replied.

Need I say that I never married Miss Pugsley, nor received a copy of the photograph which had been taken for my benefit and mine alone I