“Thank you.” Pat smiled and lifted the glass.
“Wait.” Simon reached over and took the glass from her. He sniffed it. “I thought so!”
“What’s the matter?” Pat asked. “Isn’t it all right?”
He pushed the glass back.
“Smell it.”
Hoppy’s head appeared over the top of the alcove partition.
“Whassamatter, boss?”
“Thanks for the compliment,” said Patricia, “but I’m not quite up to your kind of fruit juice.”
Mr Uniatz’s brow furrowed in hurt bewilderment.
“It’s from grapes, ain’t it? Grapes is fruit, ain’t it?” He reached behind him and raised up the bottle for all to behold. “It says so, right here on de bottle.”