The importance of that remark does go unnoticed by Ned, who merely nods, reaching around Meyer to fiddle with the heat of the stove, turn it up ever so slightly. There's nothing terribly jumpy about his demeanor (at least no more than usual) but he is careful to maintain a respectful distance from Meyer, despite the fact that they are using the same space.

"I'm not really fond of it myself."

He thinks about explaining Charles' theory about mutations to Meyer, but decides against it. Perhaps if Meyer, himself, were looking for answers, he would. But as it is, Ned doesn't see why he would need to know any of that. It's something very different, not understanding something that is deeply personal to others, and not understanding something deeply personal about yourself.

One thing he can help Meyer to understand, small though it may be, is how to make preserves.

"Now," he says, "time for the sugar."

He walks him through the next steps, intermixing bits of explanation for the steps - why to leave extra room in the tops of the jars, why to boil them after they are full and for how long, how long to chill them for once they have been processed. It's a lot to take in, but Meyer has his notepad, and Ned is a patient and experienced teacher.