“Ours isn’t good this year,” said Maggie.
“I told auntie we weren’t so set up with it, a fortnight ago,” said Clara simply, like a little angel.
“Did you, dear?” Mrs Hamps exclaimed, with great surprise, almost with shocked surprise. “I’m sure it’s beautiful. I was quite looking forward to tasting it; quite! I know what your gooseberry-jam is.”
“Would you like to try it now?” Maggie suggested. “But we’ve warned you.”
“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you now. We’re all so cosy here. Any time—”
“No trouble, auntie,” said Clara, with her most captivating and innocent smile.
“Well, if you talk about ‘warning’ me, of course I must insist on having some,” said Auntie Clara.
Clara jumped up, passed behind Mrs Hamps, making a contemptuous face at those curls as she did so, and ran gracefully down to the kitchen.
“Here,” she said crossly to Mrs Nixon. “A pot of that gooseberry, please. A small one will do. She knows it’s short of sugar, and so she’s determined to try it, just out of spite; and nothing will stop her.”
Clara returned smiling to the tea-table, and Maggie neatly unsealed the jam; and Auntie Clara, with a face beaming with pleasurable anticipation, helped herself circumspectly to a spoonful.