_Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside? [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._ There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake, For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache! [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._ 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. Vide poem, "How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf!"_ _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_). None--except 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!