"I am so Proud, I want Everybody to see my Jam"
Mildred carefully lifted the hot saucepan from the fire and began to dip out the jam with a cup and put it in the glasses; when she finished, there were eight of them, all filled with clear golden-pinky-brownish jam, beautiful to look at, and, oh, so good to taste! Mildred ran for her mother and Brownie to look at it. "I wish Father and Jack were here," she sighed, "and Miss Betty, too. I am so proud, I want everybody to see it."
"It really is lovely," said her mother. "I never saw any that was nicer. Next winter we will eat it on hot buttered toast, and put it in layer cake, and have it ready for school sandwiches."
"But only eight little, little glasses," mourned Mildred. "Why didn't I make eight dozen of them?"
"Well, eight dozen is a good many," laughed her mother. "Perhaps—just perhaps, you know, you might find you got tired even of peach jam before you had eaten all those up. But the beauty of making jams in fruit time is that you can make a few glasses of it any time you want to. Peaches are just in season now, and we have them nearly every day, so you can put up more at any time."
"Of course!" said Mildred, delightedly. "I never thought of that. I'll make the rest of my eight dozen yet, Mother Blair; I'm sure it won't be a bit too much."
"Why not make some other things that are just as good? Grapes are in season too, and plums, and pears—"
"I'll make them all! I'll make every single kind of jam that there is!"
"You can make jelly too, and compotes, and spiced things; I'll be so glad to have you learn, and they are all as easy as can be."