He got
Begglely to photograph her in seven different positions.
When her lover saw the first, he said -
"What an awful looking thing! Who did it?"
When Begglely showed him the second, he said -
"But, my dear fellow, it's not a bit like her. You've made her
look an ugly old woman."
At the third he said -
"Whatever have you done to her feet? They can't be that size, you
know. It isn't in nature!"
At the fourth he exclaimed -
"But, heavens, man! Look at the shape you've made her. Where on
earth did you get the idea from?"
At the first glimpse of the fifth he staggered.
"Great Scott!" he cried with a shudder, "what a ghastly expression
you've got into it! It isn't human!"
Begglely was growing offended, but the father, who was standing by,
came to his defence.
"It's nothing to do with Begglely," exclaimed the old gentleman
suavely. "It can't be HIS fault. What is a photographer? Simply
an instrument in the hands of science. He arranges his apparatus,
and whatever is in front of it comes into it."
"No," continued the old gentleman, laying a constrained hand upon
Begglely, who was about to resume the exhibition, "don't--don't
show him the other two.
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