Captain Cuscaden neatly captured the wasp beneath an empty plate.
“That’s got him. He’ll never lift up his head again.”
“Oh, then may I have my jam?”
Olga, with her head on one side, might have been imitating a little girl, but Quentillian could not decide whether or no the imitation was an unconscious one.
“The wasp has eaten all the jam,” Adrian rejoined in the same tone as Olga’s.
“Oh! he hasn’t eaten all of it.”
“No, he hasn’t eaten it all.”
“Oh! the wasp didn’t eat all the jam, did he?”
“Not quite all.”
“There are still a few spoonfuls left that the wasp didn’t eat, Miss Duffle.”