The door opened, and Totty appeared, able to receive visitors still with perfect propriety.
'What is it, Jacky?'
The lad was munching his bread and butter.
'You haven't got a spoonful of that jam left, have you, Miss Nancarrow?' he asked, with a mixture of confidence and shamefacedness.
Totty laughed.
'I dare say I have. But this is a nice time to come asking for jam. Isn't your father in?'
'Gone out. Says he'll be half an hour. Plenty of time, Miss Nancarrow.
'Come in then.'
Totty closed the door, and produced from her cupboard—a receptacle regarded with profound interest both by Nelly and the maturer Jack—a pot of black currant preserve. She spread some with a liberal hand on the lad's bread, then watched him as he ate, her enjoyment equalling his own. The bread finished, she offered a spoonful of jam pure and simple; it was swallowed with gusto.
'I say, Miss Nancarrow,' remarked Jack, 'I don't half-like going to a new house. I can't see what father wants to move for; we're well enough off here.'