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[Illustration: THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER

VOL. XX.--NO. 986.]      NOVEMBER 19, 1898.      [PRICE ONE PENNY.]




ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.

BY JESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of "Sisters
Three," etc.

[Illustration: SWEET SYMPATHY.]

_All rights reserved._]


CHAPTER VII.

Peggy looked very sad and wan after her mother's departure, but her
companions soon discovered that anything like out-spoken sympathy was
unwelcome. The redder her eyes, the more erect and dignified was her
demeanour; if her lips trembled when she spoke, the more grandiose and
formidable became her conversation, for Peggy's love of long words and
high-sounding expressions was fully recognised by this time, and caused
much amusement in the family.

A few days after Mrs. Saville sailed, a welcome diversion arrived in
the shape of the promised camera. The Parcels Delivery van drove up to
the door, and two large cases were delivered, one of which was found
to contain the camera itself, the tripod and a portable dark room,
while the other held such a collection of plates, printing-frames and
chemicals as delighted the eyes of the beholders. It was the gift of
one who possessed not only a deep purse, but a most true and thoughtful
kindness, for when young people are concerned, two-thirds of the
enjoyment of any present is derived from the possibility of being able
to put it to immediate use. As it was a holiday afternoon, it was
unanimously agreed to take two groups and develop them straightway.

"Professional photographers are so dilatory," said Peggy severely; "and
indeed, I have noticed that amateurs are even worse. I have twice been
photographed by friends, and they have solemnly promised to send me
a copy within a few days. I have waited, consumed by curiosity, and,
my dears, it has been months before it has arrived. Now we will make
a rule to finish off our groups at once, and not keep people waiting
until all the interest has died away. There's no excuse for such
dilatory behaviour!"

"There is some work to do, remember, Peggy. You can't get a photograph
by simply taking off and putting on the cap; you must have a certain
amount of time and fine weather. I haven't had much experience, but I
remember thinking that photographs were jolly cheap considering all the
trouble they cost, and wondered how the fellows could do them at the
price. There's the developing, and washing, and printing, and toning,
half-a-dozen processes before you are finished."

Peggy smiled in a patient, forbearing manner.

"They don't get any less, do they, by putting them off? Procrastination
will never lighten labour. Come, put the camera up for us, like a good
boy, and we'll show you how to do it." She waved her hand towards
the brown canvas bag, and the six young people immediately seized
different portions of the tripod and camera, and set to work to put
them together. The girls tugged and pulled at the sliding legs, which
were too new and stiff to work with ease; Maxwell turned the screws
which moved the bellows, and tried in vain to understand their working;
Robert peered through the lenses, and Oswald alternately raved, chided,
and jeered at their efforts. With so many cooks at work, it took an
unconscionable time to get ready, and even when the camera was perched
securely on its spidery legs, it still remained to choose the site of
the picture, and to pose the victims. After much wandering about the
garden, it was finally decided that the schoolroom window would be
an appropriate background for a first effort, but a long and heated
argument followed before the second question could be decided.

"I vote that we stand in couples, arm-on-arm, like this," said
Mellicent, sidling up to her beloved brother, and gazing into his face
in a sentimental manner, which had the effect of making him stride away
as fast as he could walk, muttering indignant protests beneath his
breath.

Then Esther came forward with her suggestion.

"I'll hold a book as if I were reading aloud, and you can all sit round
in easy, natural positions, and look as if you were listening. I think
that would make a charming picture."

"Idiotic, I call it! 'Scene from the Goodchild family; mamma reading
aloud to the little ones.' Couldn't possibly look easy and natural
under the circumstances; should feel too miserable. Try again, my dear.
You must think of something better than that."

It was impossible to please those three fastidious boys. One suggestion
after another was made, only to be waved aside with lordly contempt,
until at last the girls gave up any say in the matter, and left Oswald
to arrange the group in a manner highly satisfactory to himself and his
two friends, however displeasing to the more artistic members of the
party. Three girls in front, two boys behind, all standing stiff and
straight as pokers; with solemn faces and hair much tangled by constant
peepings beneath the black cloth. Peggy in the middle, with her
eyebrows more peaked than ever, and an expression of resigned martyrdom
on her small, pale face; Mellicent, large and placid, on the left;
Esther on the right, scowling at nothing, and, over their shoulders,
the two boys' heads, handsome Max, and frowning Robert.

"There," cried Oswald, "that's what I call a sensible arrangement!
If you take a photograph, _take_ a photograph, and don't try to do a
pastoral play at the same time. Keep still a moment now, and I will
see if it is focused all right. I can see you pulling faces, Peggy;
it's not at all becoming. Now then, I'll put in the plate--that's the
way!--one--two--three--and I shall take you. Stea--dy!"

Instantly Mellicent burst into giggles of laughter, and threw up her
hands to her face, to be roughly seized from behind and shaken into
order.

"Be quiet, you silly thing! Didn't you hear him say steady? What are
you trying to do?"

"She has spoiled this plate, anyhow," said Oswald icily. "I'll try the
other, and if she can't keep still this time, she had better run away
and laugh by herself at the other end of the garden. Baby!"

"Not a ba----" began Mellicent indignantly; but she was immediately
punched into order, and stood with her mouth wide open, waiting to
finish her protest so soon as the ordeal was over.

Peggy forestalled her, however, with an eager plea to be allowed to
take the third picture herself.

"I want to have one of Oswald to send to mother, for we are not
complete without him, and I know it would please her to think I had
taken it myself," she urged; and permission was readily granted, as
everyone felt that she had a special claim in the matter. Oswald
therefore put in new plates, gave instructions as to how the shutters
were to be worked, and retired to take up an elegant position in the
centre of the group.

"Are you read--ee?" cried Peggy, in professional sing-song; then she
put her head on one side and stared at them with twinkling eyes.
"Hee, hee! How silly you look! Everyone has a new expression for the
occasion! Your own mothers would not recognise you! That's better. Keep
that smile going for another moment, and--how long must I keep off the
cap, did you say?"

Oswald hesitated.

"Well, it varies. You have to use your own judgment. It depends
upon--lots of things! You might try one second for the first, and two
for the next, then one of them is bound to be right."

"And one a failure! If I were going to depend on my judgment, I'd have
a better one than that!" cried Peggy scornfully. "Ready. A little
more cheerful, if you please--Christmas is coming! That's one. Be so
good as to remain in your positions, ladies and gentlemen, and I'll
try another." The second shutter was pulled out, the cap removed, and
the group broke up with sighs of relief, exhausted with the strain of
cultivating company smiles for a whole two minutes on end. Max stayed
to help the girls to fold up the camera, while Oswald darted into the
house to prepare the dark room for the development of the plates.

When he came out, ten minutes later on, it was a pleasant surprise to
discover Miss Mellicent holding a plate in her hand and taking sly
peeps inside the shutter, just "to see how it looked." He stormed and
raved; Mellicent looked like a martyr, wished to know how a teeny
little light like that could possibly hurt anything, and seemed
incapable of understanding that if one flash of sunlight could make
a picture, it could also destroy it with equal swiftness. Oswald was
forced to comfort himself with the reflection that there were still
three plates left; and, when all was ready, the six operators squeezed
themselves 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 will be quite different.
There shall be nothing stiff and prim about it; the photographs will 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 No.
1' and 'Developer No. 2;' I think the only difference is that one is
rather stronger than the other. I'll put some of the No. 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 slyly; 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 matter that he was instantly reinstated
in public confidence; but when twenty minutes had passed, 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?"

(_To be continued._)




SOME PRACTICAL HINTS ON COSMETIC MEDICINE.

BY "THE NEW DOCTOR."


PART IV.

THE HANDS.

The appearance of the hands is secondary only to that of the face, and
many women pride themselves upon their beautiful white hands. But it
is not everybody who can have white hands. Manual labour will always
make the hands red and rough, and no amount of applications will whiten
them. General servants and laundry women cannot expect their hands to
remain white. It is interesting to see why house labour should injure
the appearance of the hands in this way. In the first place the hands
must get a good deal knocked about by the rough work necessary in a
household. Laying fires, cleaning grates, blacking boots, etc., make
the hands rough from inflicting numerous small injuries upon them. You
all know that if you cut your finger the place remains hard and horny
for some time afterwards, and so hands that are exposed to rough usage
will also get horny and coarse. Then, again, rough red hands, being
less delicate, are better fitted to do hard work, and so Nature, who
cares more for usefulness than for idle beauty, will tend to make the
hands of those who do manual labour hard and coarse. Another reason why
servants so often have red hands is the constant use of soda and water,
which is necessary for cleaning the house. Soda is very bad for the
hands, and this, together with the impossibility of keeping the hands
dry, is another cause of red hands.

With a little care, nearly everybody can have white hands. Even in
those who have to work hard a little care will often do wonders to
keep the hands from becoming very red--not from becoming red slightly,
for nothing will prevent this. When you wash your hands, always dry
them afterwards on a fairly rough towel. In winter you should be very
careful about thoroughly drying your hands, as it takes very little to
produce chaps.

If you are desirous of having white hands, always wear gloves when you
go out. This, indeed, will do more than anything else to keep the hands
white.

In the winter most persons suffer from chaps. These are a more
pronounced and more acute form of "red hands." But they are often very
painful, and if not properly treated are apt to be very persistent and
unsightly.

Prevention is better than cure, and we can do a considerable amount
to prevent our hands from becoming chapped. It is the cold wind
that produces chaps, and so, if you would be freed from this evil,
you should always wear thick gloves when you go out in a strong
north-easter. I have already mentioned that you should dry your hands
very carefully after washing. If you are very liable to chaps, you
should not wash your hands in cold water, but only use warm water, not
hot (for this is worse than cold water for producing chaps), but just
slightly warm. You must also be careful about the soap you use, as
coarse alkaline soaps are very bad, and make chapped hands smart.

If the chaps are not very bad, a little glycerine and rose-water may be
applied after washing. This is very efficacious in a mild case, but it
is insufficient in more severe grades of the affection. The following
preparation I have found invaluable for severe chaps--sulphate of zinc,
two grains; compound tincture of lavender, one dram; glycerine, three
drams; rose-water to the ounce.

A very much worse affair than chaps is a chilblain. Indeed, a bad
broken chilblain is a very serious and unpleasant matter. Chilblains
may occur in anyone, but they are most common in persons in whom the
circulation is feeble. I have seen a terribly bad chilblain in an
anæmic girl. Moreover, when the circulation is below par, chilblains do
not heal properly, and give great trouble often for months together.

Warm gloves, warm stockings, loose-fitting boots, and flannel next the
skin all over the body, are the best safeguards against this complaint.
As chilblains are a kind of minor frostbite, keeping warm will
necessarily prevent them, but it is very difficult for a person with
feeble circulation to keep warm.

If you have a chilblain coming do not scratch it, for this makes it far
worse. Bathe the part gently in warm spirit and water, and wrap the
finger or toe, whichever it is, in a thick layer of cotton wool. If you
do this you will probably prevent the chilblains from bursting.

There are a large number of messy preparations made of lard, dripping,
tallow, cream, and other "pantry drugs," which are advised for
chilblains. They are none of them any good. A broken chilblain is a
septic wound, that is, it is a wound that contains germs. It should
therefore be treated as a septic wound. Wash the place gently in
diluted carbolic acid lotion (1 in 80), or warm solution of boracic
acid. Then cover the broken surface thickly with powdered boracic acid,
and put on a bandage. If you do this, and attend to your general health
at the same time, you get rid of your chilblains more rapidly than by
any other method.

Warts are more common on the hands than anywhere else. Of their cause
we know but little. Irritation sometimes causes them, and they are to
a certain extent infectious from place to place. We used to be taught
that lady-birds produced or cured them, according to which version of
the story we heard. There is about an equal amount of truth in each
doctrine.

The best way to treat warts is to first soak the hand in hot water,
and clean it thoroughly with soap. Then paint the skin surrounding the
wart with vaseline, and drop on to the wart itself one drop of glacial
acetic acid. Wait one minute, and then well rub the wart over with a
stick of lunar caustic (silver nitrate). This treatment may require to
be repeated, but I have never known it to fail.

(_To be continued._)




GIRLS AS I HAVE KNOWN THEM.

BY ELSA D'ESTERRE-KEELING, Author of "Old Maids and Young."


PART II.

THE WITTY GIRL.

    "She is pretty to walk with,
    And witty to talk with,
    And pleasant, too, to think on."

First let us understand each other.

By the witty girl is not here meant the girl--if such a girl
exists--whose conversation has the high brilliancy which characterises
the conversation of certain men and women.

No. The thing here meant is nothing more than the common domestic
wit-snapper, generally, say her enemies, more of a snapper than a wit,
concerning which statement it is perhaps not unpermissible to say that
he who makes it shows himself to be less a wit than a snapper.

While all but invariably of a character that loses much by the process
of retailing, the wit of the girl here in view will sometimes bear
being brought to book. The samples of it given in this paper are all
authentic and heretofore unpublished. They do not, perhaps, reach a
high standard of excellence, but they who know girls will concede that
they are good girl-wit of the middle order.

Take a case like this: "My name is May. I feel I am reaching the age
when I should be called Hawthorn."

Or take this: "Your mother will miss you when you marry."

"No--then she'll 'Mrs.' me."

Such jests are the _bric-à-brac_ of home conversation, and make it
pretty.

He who listens to the talk between girls and their brothers will
sometimes hear a thing worth noting, in compensation for the many
things not worth noting which--if the truth is to be told--he will also
hear.

The following does not show young Ethel at her best, but it also does
not show her at her worst.

"D'you know, Jim," she said, "that two