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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I mean," he said, divining my thoughts, "that things may or may not be evidence according to the guilt or innocence of the suspect. If you find a little boy in the pantry beside an empty jampot, you suspect him of stealing jam. Now, if lots of other circumstances prove that child did take the jam, the empty pot is evidence.
Jeremy, in his H.M.S. Adventure's cap and rough blue navy coat, felt himself superior to the Jampot, so he only said, "Oh, don't bother, Nurse," and then in the same breath, "I'll run you down the hill, Mary," and before anyone could say a word there they were at the bottom of Orange Street, as though they had fallen into a well.
He watched them nervously, lest he should be expected to kiss them. He wiped his mouth with his hand instead, and began rapidly to talk: "Jampot will know now which mine is. She's always giving me the wrong one. I'll have it always, and the green thing too." "It's for the middle of a table," Helen interrupted. "Yes, I know," said Jeremy hurriedly.
The Jampot as a power in the Cole family has ceased to be. The day following the Jampot's departure offered up the news that, for the first time in the history of the Coles, there was to be a governess. The word "governess" had an awful sound, and the children trembled with a mixture of delight and terror. Jeremy pretended indifference. "It's only another woman," he said.
It was this that attracted Jeremy; he had himself felt thus after a slippering from his father, or idiotic punishments from the Jampot, and the uninvited consolations of Mary or Helen upon such occasions had been resented with so fierce a bitterness that his reputation for sulkiness had been soundly established with all his circle.
Round and round went the clay, the hands forming it all the while, cleaning and smoothing until it came out a true and perfect jampot, even to the little furrow round the top, which was given by a movement of the thumbs. He had been at work since seven in the morning, and the shelves round him were encumbered with the result of his labours.
Helen should sit in the chair when she pleased; Mary should be allowed to dress and undress the large woollen dog, known as "Sulks," his own especial and beloved property, so often as she wished; Jampot should poke the twisted end of the towel in his ears and brush his hair with the hard brushes, and he would not say a word. Sausages!
Perhaps if my health had been better it wouldn't have been so hard." "Do your pains come often?" asked Jeremy. "Yes. They're very bad." "I have them, too," said Jeremy. "It's generally, I expect, because I eat too much at least, the Jampot used to say so. They're in my head sometimes, too. And then I'm really sick. Do you feel sick?" Miss Jones began to pull herself together.
These people, Kingozi noted, were above middle size, of a red bronze, of the Semitic rather than the Hamitic type, well developed but not obviously muscular, of a bright and lively expression. The women shaved their heads quite bare; the men left a sort of skull cap of hair atop the head. Earlobes were pierced and stretched to hold ivory ornaments running up to the size of a jampot.
She raised her eyes for one moment, stared at them all, bit off a piece of thread, and said in deep, sepulchral tones: "Either it goes, or I go." The three stared at one another. The Jampot go? Really go?... They could hear their hearts thumping one after another. The Jampot go? "Oh, Nurse, would you really?" whispered Mary.
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