"Now, Jacob, you must eat the soup with the spoon," said little Sarah, laughing; "we shall all be done. Be quick."
"Take it coolly," replied I, digging my spoon into the burning preparation, and tossing it into my mouth. It burst forth from my tortured throat in a diverging shower, accompanied with a howl of pain.
"The poor boy has scalded his mouth," cried the lady, pouring out a tumbler of water.
"It's no use crying," replied I, blubbering with all my might; "what's done can't be helped."
"Better that you had not been helped," observed Mr Drummond, wiping off his share of my liberal spargification from his coat and waistcoat.
"The poor boy has been shamefully neglected," observed the good-natured Mrs Drummond. "Come, Jacob, sit down and try it again; it will not burn you now."
"Bet
