Then, like Judgment, the Jampot appeared again. She stood in the
doorway, looking across at him.

"You 'ave not cleaned your teeth, Master Jeremy," she said. "The
glass isn't touched, nor your toothbrush. . . You wicked, wicked
boy. So it's a liar you've become, added on to all your other
wickedness."

"I forgot," he muttered sullenly. "I thought I had."

She smiled the smile of approaching triumph.

"No, you did not," she said. "You knew you'd told a lie. It was in
your face. All of a piece--all of a piece."

The way she said this, like a pirate counting over his captured
treasure, was enraging. Jeremy could feel the wild fury at himself,
at her, at the stupid blunder of the whole business rising to his
throat.

"If you think I'm going to let this pass you're making a mighty
mistake," she continued, "which I wouldn't do not if you paid me all
the gold in the kingdom. I mayn't be good enough to keep my place
and look after such as you, but anyways I'm able to stop your lying
for another week or two. I know my duty even though there's them as
thinks I don't."

She positively snorted, and the excitement of her own vindication
and the just condemnation of Jeremy was such that her hands
trembled.