"But they contain stones," I urged. "Nasty little things wot gits into
the 'ollers of your teeth somethink cruel, as cook says. Really, the
Government ought to give us more careful instructions. And what about
the apples? Are pips stones?"

"Apples are not used for jam-making," he retorted.

"What!" I exclaimed. "Tell that to the--to the Army in general!
Plum-and-apple jam, my dear Sir! And that reminds me: a jam composed
of half stone and half soft fruit--how do we stand in respect to
that?"

"Well, Sir," said the inspector, closing his notebook grudgingly, "I
don't think we need go into that. I think you've got just about the
requisite amount of soft fruit for the one hundredweight of sugar
which, I believe, you were allocated."

"There's still the rose garden," I said, "if you're not satisfied."

"Been turning that into an orchard, have you?" he asked. "Very
patriotic, I'm sure."

"Well, I don't know," I said. "My wife wants to make _pot-pourri_ as
usual, but what I say is, in these days--and with all that sugar--it
would surely be more patriotic (as you say) to make _fleurs de Nice._"

"It would be more patriotic perhaps," observed Lord RHONDDA'S minion
sententiously, "not to make jam at all."