"It's surely not my precious scones!" shrieked Dora, flying to the oven in hot haste, to ascertain the fate of the delicacies in question.
"Why, you only put them in a moment ago!"
"No, it's not the scones; they've hardly begun to cook yet," said Dora, much relieved. "Aldred, I believe it's your sugar. Why don't you stir it?"
"I am stirring," returned Aldred, who, indeed, was wielding the spoon with frantic zeal.
"What's wrong then? Let me try."
Aldred resigned her weapon, and Dora took her place at the stove; but she was already too late, for the sugar was rapidly turning into a black, solid mass.
"Lift off the pan!" cried Mabel. "Can't you see it's burning horribly? Oh, what a nasty, disgusting, sticky mess!"
"I don't know why it should have burnt," complained Aldred; "I was watching it the whole time."
"Did you put enough water into it?"
"Water! I didn't put in any at all," faltered Aldred.