It seems that in the old days, when Lewis Carroll loved to play host to the children, they would often come to take afternoon tea in his lodgings, and then likely as not, if the light were good, he would spirit them into a 'room fitted up for the purpose and take their pictures; and then, if they promised to be good and not to bother, they might follow him into the queer-smelling little room where he made the pictures come out, and they would be permitted to have a look at the dripping glass plate, from which they could seldom make head nor tail, held up against the dark-room's lantern for inspection. But, all the same, their faith in the result was supreme; for what could a wizard not do who could weave fairy-tales so wonderfully as not to have them seem like fairy-tales at all. And so this portfolio, extended to its uttermost, was literally stuffed with pictures; and what did they discover, to their surprised delight, lying right on the top of the pile, but three or four unmistakable photographs of Harry and Dorothy Allyn, which had evidently been placed there by design. Dorothy was pleased at this little attention, and partly forgave Mr. Carroll his antipathy to renewing old friendships.