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Updated: May 1, 2025


"We might play Pirates," Jeremy said with a little cough, the better to secure her attention. There was no answer. "Or there's the hut in the wood if anyone likes it better," he added politely. He did not know what was the matter. Had the Jampot not told him about school he would at this very moment be playing most happily with his village.

"Woppley Woppley Why!" screamed the skin-man suddenly appearing at the top of the street. "Now 'urry, Master Jeremy," said the Jampot, "or we shall never get 'ome this night, and I might have known you'd choose the longest walk possible. Come along, Miss Mary, now none of that dawdling."

"That's what the Jampot always used to say, that one day she'd end in the workhouse; and that's a horrible place, SHE said, where there was nothing but porridge to eat, and sometimes they took all your clothes off and scrubbed your back with that hard yellow soap they wash Hamlet with." His eyes grew wide with the horrible picture. "Oh, Miss Jones, you mustn't go there!"

Then upon the landing he waited and listened. The house had all the lighted trembling dusk of the snowy afternoon; there was no sound save the ticking of the clocks. He might come upon the Jampot at any moment, but this was just the hour when she liked to drink her cup of tea in the kitchen; he knew from deep and constant study every movement of her day. Fortune favoured him.

Had he turned round and spoken, all might still have been well. But now obstinacy held him. He was not going to give the Jampot an opportunity for triumphing over him. After all, he would clean them so soon as she went to brush Helen's hair. In a moment what he had said would be true. But he was miserable.

Cyril put the glue to melt in a jampot, and put the jampot in a saucepan and saucepan on the fire, while Robert painted a wreath of poppies round the photographs. He painted rather well and very quickly, and poppies are easy to do if you've once been shown how. Then Anthea drew some printed letters and Jane coloured them. The words were: 'With all our loves to shew We like the thigs to eat.

Hamlet came up from the nether regions where he had spent the night, showing his teeth, wagging his tail, and even rolling on the cockatoos. Jeremy paid no attention. The weight in his heart grew heavier and heavier. He watched, from under his eyelids, the Jampot. In a moment she must go into Helen's room. But she did not.

"It's a dirty old thing," continued Jeremy, pursuing an argument, "and it'll be dirtier soon, and the Jampot says you do all the stitches wrong. I wish I was at school." "I wish you were," said Helen. There was a pause after this. Jeremy went sadly back to his window-seat. Mary felt that her moment had arrived.

"I shall tell your mother," said the Jampot. "Now come, Master Jeremy, be a good boy." "Oh, don't bother, Nurse," he answered impatiently. "You're such a fuss." She realised in that moment that he was suddenly beyond her power, that he would never be within it again.

The Jampot rose, as good manners demanded, but said nothing. "Where is the creature?" he asked. The new addition to the Cole family had finished his washing; the blazing fire had almost dried him, and his hair stuck out now from his body in little stiff prickles, hedgehog fashion, giving him a truly original appearance.

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