(Kissing little finger.) Baby! Let Hyder look after the jam.
You know I don't care for sweets.
Mrs. G. Indeed?--Pip!
Capt. G. Not of that kind, anyhow. And now run along, Minnie, and leave
me to my own base devices. I'm busy.
Mrs. G.
(Calmly
settling
herself in long chair.
) So I see. What a mess
you're making! Why have you brought all that smelly leather stuff into
the house?
Capt. G. To play with. Do you mind, dear?
Mrs. G. Let me play too. I'd like it.
Capt. G. I'm afraid you wouldn't. Pussy--Don't you think that jam will
burn, or whatever it is that jam does when it's not looked after by a
clever little housekeeper?
