s eyes, and
regarded her with a look of cold contempt, then returned to his task.

"Don't be so silly," said Jeremy. "You know you always hate it when Aunt
Amy says things like that about you."

"Did Nurse see?" asked Mary.

"No, she didn't," said Jeremy; "but she'll be up in a minute."

"What are you going to do?" asked Mary her mouth wide open.

"Do? Keep him, of course," said Jeremy stoutly; at the same time
his heart a little failed him as he saw the pool of the water slowly
spreading and embracing one cockatoo after another in its ruinous flood.

"We ought to wipe him with a towel," said Jeremy; "if we could get him
dry before Nurse comes up she mightn't say so much."

But alas, it was too late for any towel; the door opened, and the Jampot
entered, humming a hymn, very cheerful and rosy from the kitchen fire
and an abundant series of chronicles of human failings and misfortunes.
The hymn ceased abruptly. She stayed there where she was, "frozen into
an image," as she afterwards described it. She also said: "You could
'ave knocked me down with a feather."

The dog did not look at her, but crocked under him the leg that had been
stiff like a ramrod and spread out another. The children did not speak.

"Well!" For a moment words failed her; then she began, her hands spread
out as though she was addressing a Suffragette meeting in Trafalgar
Square. (She knew, happy woman, nothing of Suffragettes.) "Of all the
things, and it's you, Master Jeremy, that 'as done it, as anyone might
have guessed by the way you've been be'aving this last fortnight, and
what's come over you is more nor I nor anyone else can tell, which I was
saying only yesterday to your mother that it's more than one body
and pair of hands is up to the managing of now you've got so wild and
wicked; and wherever from did you get the dirty animal dropping water
all over the nursery carpet and smelling awful, I'll be bound, which
anyone can see that's got eyes, and you'd know what your father will
do to you when he knows of it, and so he shall, as sure as my name is
Lizzie Preston.... Go on out, you ugly, dirty animal-ough, you 'orrible
creature you. I'll--"

But her advance was stopped. Jeremy stopped it. Standing in front of the
dog, his short thick legs spread defiantly apart, his fists clenched, he
almost shouted:

"You shan't touch him.... No, you shan't. I don't care. He shan't go out
again and die. You're a cruel, wicked woman."

The Jampot