And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder! (_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I’ll laugh them--even louder! [_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._ “How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf!”--_Vide Poem._ _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_). ’Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite; I’ll clear the pot, whate’er I have to pay for it! And finish up with currants from this shelf ... Who’ll ever see me? _The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense pot of preserves_). No one--but Myself! [_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent by the Lyceum Management from “Faust” properties); weird music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting here._ _The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don’t mind _me_--I will await your leisure. _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I’ve not the pleasure. Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened? _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is “Jim-Jam;” occupation--fiend. _Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I _know_ it’s very wrong of me! _Demon_ (_politely_). Don’t mention it--but please to come “along of” me? _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you’re relenting, You smile---- _Demon_ (_grimly_). ’Tis nothing but my jam fermenting! [_Catches_ JOE’s _ankle, and assists him to descend._ _Joe_. You’ll drive me mad! _Demon_ (_carelessly_). I _may_--before I’ve done with you! _Joe_. What do you want? _Demon_ (_darkly_). To have a little fun with you! Of fiendish humour now I’ll give a specimen. [_Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him hideously with jam._ _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don’t! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess I’m in! _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_). That _is_ the worst of jam--it’s apt to stain you. [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces of his crime._ I see you’re busy--so I’ll not detain you! [_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh. Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down._ JOE _stands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself off stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in faint light of torches._ [Illustration: The Demon!] _Re-enter_ JOE _bearing a candle and wringing his hands._