"We ought to wipe him with a towel," said Jeremy; "if we could get
him dry before Nurse comes up she mightn't say so much."

But alas, it was too late for any towel; the door opened, and the
Jampot entered, humming a hymn, very cheerful and rosy from the
kitchen fire and an abundant series of chronicles of human failings
and misfortunes. The hymn ceased abruptly. She stayed there where
she was, "frozen into an image," as she afterwards described it. She
also said: "You could 'ave knocked me down with a feather."

The dog did not look at her, but crocked under him the leg that had
been stiff like a ramrod and spread out another. The children did
not speak.

"Well!" For a moment words failed her; then she began, her hands
spread out as though she was addressing a Suffragette meeting in
Trafalgar Square. (She knew, happy woman, nothing of Suffragettes.)
"Of all the things, and it's you, Master Jeremy, that 'as done it,
as anyone might have guessed by the way you've been be'aving this
last fortnight, and what's come over you is more nor I nor anyone
else can tell, which I was saying only yesterday to your mother that
it's more than one body and pair of hands is up to the managing of
now you've got so wild and wicked; and wherever from did you get the
dirty animal dropping water all over the nursery carpet and smelling
awful, I'll be bound, which anyone can see that's got eyes, and
you'd know what your father will do to you when he knows of it, and
so he shall, as sure as my name is Lizzie Preston. . .. Go on out,
you ugly, dirty animal-ough, you 'orrible creature you. I'll--"