Then at last he thought he had found something he could eat. It was in a smooth, round glass jar with a screw lid and was a clear jelly-like substance that looked as though it might be marmalade or honey or some kind of jam.
He opened the jar without trouble and sniffed at the contents. It smelled very good indeed. Twaddles plunged in an investigating finger.
The jam stuck to his finger. Still, Twaddles could not get enough off to taste, and he had liberally covered all the other fingers on that hand before he pulled away from the jar.
"That certainly is funny jam," he puzzled, trying to scrape his fingers clean with the other hand.
"Twaddles!" called Mother Blossom. "Oh, Twaddles, where are you?
Aren't you going to help me toast marshmallows?"
Twaddles backed out of the pantry, into Norah who had come downstairs, freshly gowned, to start her supper.
"Glory be!" she ejaculated. "Twaddles, what have you been up to now? If you've been messing in my pantry, I'll tell your mother. What's that all over your hands?"
"Jam," said Twaddles meekly.
Norah eyed him with suspicion.
"There's no jam there," she said. "Come over here to the light where I can see ye."