"You can't stop that stuff by saying Wo," he remarked, whirling the jug in his hands to stop the flow from the lip. "It is n't as thick, though, as some that I 've seen."
"No!"
"I don't suppose Steve told you about the molasses I had with the 'J. K.' outfit one winter."
"No, he did n't tell me anything about it."
"Well, that molasses was so thick that when you got too much on a flapjack, all you had to do was to give the jug a few turns and wind the molasses right up into it again. You could wrap it around the neck of the jug till next time if you wanted to. If you 'll just excuse me a moment, Miss Janet, I 'll put this jug back in home, sweet home, again."
When he had put it where he found it, under the foot of the bed, he returned to his place and passed the flapjacks. He insisted that she try one at least.
"So he told you about his mother. And maybe about his house?"
"He did n't tell me much about his house—just about his mother. He showed me the clipping about her. He did n't tell me anything in particular about her."
"Well, that's all the same. Just the same as if he told you."
Janet sampled the pancake and complimented him upon his cooking, in return for which he told her his recipe, which could be varied with water "according to taste." There came a pause in which Mr. Hicks seemed to be thinking.