She set to work very providently 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. "Well, you've spoilt all the sugar, at any rate! And the blackberries are no use now, either. It's really too bad!" "Oh, Dora, don't be cross, there's a dear!" entreated Mabel. "Aldred's fearfully sorry! I suppose we shouldn't have been so ambitious. I expect your scones will be lovely, and that will quite make up for the jam. Hadn't you better look at them again?"