At length he tried to make a flank attack, and tore open the stove doors so as to lessen the draught.
The movement failed.
Scarce had he torn open the doors than the molasses, rising in its wrath, rushed forth, streamed over, and poured out in resistless strength, driving Phil himself back from the clouds of hot steam that arose.
Phil fled vanquished from the galley.
The molasses had conquered!
Wild cheers arose from the Molassesites.
At length, when the smoke and steam had subsided, Phil ventured back. There was a boiling, foaming mass still in the pot; but on lifting it off the stove, and allowing it to subside for a moment, it was found that not more than a quart was left.
“Sure, an here’s some lovely flavorin I found,” said Pat, “in the pantry. It’ll make a good flavorin to the candy, so it will.”
He held forth a small vial to Phil, which was labelled,—
Extract of Lemon.