Naturally he thought she was up to some mischief, and struggled away from her with an angry exclamation.

But she held him tight and thrust something hard and sweet against his lips.

Involuntarily his mouth opened and admitted an enticing cake of butter-scotch.

She rammed it in with her wiry little hand so that he almost choked, and then with a shrill laugh she turned and fled, leaping down the heather between the boulders, across the brook, over the wall, and out of sight.
David was left behind, sucking.

The sweetness he was conscious of was not all in the mouth.