ly and systematically. First she found the
jam pots, wiped them, and placed them in readiness, then got the big
brass pan and rubbed it carefully with butter, to make sure that not the
slightest particle of verdigris could be left in it. She felt quite
proud of herself for thus remembering her aunt's methodical ways. Next
she measured the blackberries with a pint mug, and found that there were
nearly five quarts, therefore four pounds of sugar would be just enough.

"I'll put the sugar in first," she thought, "and then, when it's
boiling, drop in the fruit, like Aunt Bertha does. It keeps the
blackberries whole, instead of letting them go squashy."

So on went the pan, and Aldred, armed with a big wooden spoon, stirred
vigorously, wondering why the sugar did not begin to turn into a soft
syrup, such as she had seen at home.

"There's a queer smell from somewhere!" exclaimed Mabel, who was at the
table concocting potato cakes. "Is anything burning?"

"It's surely not my precious scones!" shrieked Dora, flying to the oven
in hot haste, to ascertain the fate of the delicacies in question.

"Why, you only put them in a moment ago!"

"No, it's not the scones; they've hardly begun to cook yet," said Dora,
much relieved. "Aldred, I believe it's your sugar. Why don't you stir
it?"

"I am stirring," returned Aldred, who, indeed, was wielding the spoon
with frantic zeal.

"What's wrong then? Let me try."

Aldred resigned her weapon, and Dora took her place at the stove; but
she was already too late, for the sugar was rapidly turning into a
black, solid mass.

"Lift off the pan!" cried Mabel. "Can't you see it's burning horribly?
Oh, what a nasty, disgusting, sticky mess!"

"I don't know why it should have burnt," complained Aldred; "I was
watching it the whole time."

"Did you put enough water into it?"

"Water! I didn't put in any at all," faltered Aldred.

"You unmitigated goose!" exclaimed Dora. "Why, even I know that sugar
will burn by itself, though I don't pretend to make jam. You really are
a bungler to-day! How many more silly things are you going to do?"

"Everyone's liable to make mistakes," said Mabel, coming to her friend's
defence. "It was you who suggested the jam, Dora, and neither you nor I
knew exactly the proper way."

"Evidently Aldred didn't either. Why couldn't she get a recipe from Miss
Reade?"

"I thought I could remember," apologized Aldred, who was feeling
decidedly crestfallen.

"