Sir Hilton's Sin

“Don’t eat too much marmalade, Sydney dear. It may make you bilious.”
“Oh, no, auntie dear, I’ll be careful.”
“You have a great deal of butter on your bread, dear?”
“Yes, auntie; that’s the beauty of it Miller says—”
“Who is Miller, Syd dear?”
“Our chemistry chap at Loamborough. He shows us how when you mix acids and alkalis together they form new combinations which go off in gas.”
“Indeed, dear! Your studies must be very interesting.”
“Oh, they are, auntie—awfly. That’s how it is with the marmalade and the fresh butter—this is real fresh butter, isn’t it?”
“Of course, dear. Whatever did you think it was?”
“Dab, aunt dear. Margarine. That wouldn’t do, of course; but the marmalade’s nearly all sugar—that’s carbon—and the butters all carbon, too; and then there’s a lot of acid in the oranges, and it all combines, and one kills the other and does you good. It never hurts me. Shall I give you some game pie, auntie?”
“Thank you, no, my dear, but you may pass me the dry toast. Thanks. Pass your cup, my child.”