"Does it take long to make jam?" asks Sir Mark, putting in his query before Stephen Gower, who is also present, can say anything.
"Well—it quite depends," says Dulce, vaguely. She conveys to the astonished listeners the idea that though it might take some unfortunately ignorant people many days to produce a decent pot of jam, she—experienced as she is in all culinary matters—can manage it in such a short time as it is not worth talking about.
Everybody at this is plainly impressed.
"Cook is such a bad hand at plum jam," goes on Miss Blount, with increasing affectation, that sits funnily on her, "and Uncle Christopher does so love mine. Don't you, Uncle Christopher?"
"It is the best jam in the world," says Uncle Christopher, promptly, and without a blush. "But I hope you won't spoil your pretty white fingers making it for me."
"Oh, no, I shan't," says Dulce, shaking her head sweetly. "Cook does all the nasty part of it; she is good enough at that."
"I wonder what the nice part of it is?" says Roger, thoughtfully.
"There is no nice part; it is all work—hard work, from beginning to end," returns his fiancée, severely.
"I shan't eat any more of it if it gives you such awful trouble," says Dicky Browne, gallantly but insincerely; whereupon Roger turns upon him a glance warm with disgust.
"Dulce," says the Boodie, who is also in the room, going up to Miss Blount, whom she adores, and clasping her arms round her waist; "let me go and see you make it; do," coaxingly. "I want to get some when it is hot. Mamma's jam is always cold. Darling love of a Dulce, take me with you and I'll help you to peel them."