“What! Why, so it is! Now, watch, I’ll pour in some more.”
He emptied the pail into the ice-bowl, and they both watched what happened. It disappeared almost as fast as he had poured it in.
“The old thing leaks!” cried King, going off into a burst of laughter. “Oh, Mopsy, Midget, you’re a smart one!”
“Well, what makes it leak? Do you suppose anybody bored a hole in the ice?”
“No; they didn’t have to! It’s full of holes; look at it!”
Sure enough, the ice that formed the bottom of the receptacle showed a dozen or more good-sized holes. Though the slab was fully four inches thick, the holes went straight through, as if driven there with an auger.
The bits of orange and the cherries remained, but the orangeade had drained right through, and was now in the pan below that had been placed there to catch the melting ice.
“Oh, Mops! what a joke!” cried King, still doubled up with laughter.
“But who put the holes there? How did they get there?” persisted Marjorie.
“Why, ice is often that way. I s’pose air makes the holes; it bubbles up as the ice freezes. Sometimes there are so many holes that it’s as porous as a sponge. And every time we pour the stuff in, it goes right through.”