“If you haven’t anything better to do than going on buying hats you don’t need—”
“That’s it,” said Tuppence. “That’s exactly it. If I had something better to do. I suppose I ought to take up good works. Oh, Tommy, I do wish something exciting would happen. I feel—I really do feel it would be good for us. If we could find a fairy—”
“Ah!” said Tommy. “It is curious your saying that.”
He got up and crossed the room. Opening a drawer of the writing table he took out a small snapshot print and brought it to Tuppence.
“Oh!” said Tuppence, “so you have got them developed. Which is this, the one you took of this room or the one I took?”
“The one I took. Yours didn’t come out. You under exposed it. You always do.”
“It is nice for you,” said Tuppence, “to think that there is one thing you can do better than me.”
“A foolish remark,” said Tommy, “but I will let it pass for the moment. What I wanted to show you was this.”
He pointed to a small white speck on the photograph.
“That is a scratch on the film,” said Tuppence.
“Not at all,” said Tommy. “That, Tuppence, is a fairy.”
“Tommy, you idiot.”
“Look for yourself.”
He handed her a magnifying glass. Tuppence studied the print attentively through it. Seen thus by a slight stretch of fancy the scratch