And go it did, apparently as far and farther than even good home-made grape juice is supposed to travel, for it covered the face and shirt front of the determined man, it all but shampooed the blonde head in the next seat front, it managed, somehow, to include Nancy in its area, for across the aisle shot a thin but virulent little stream, and while one party was trying to dodge it another would fall into its furious path.
“A bomb! A bomb!” yelled one of the ice cream boys joyfully.
“Maybe it’s a bandit’s hold-up,” yelped the other boy, hopefully.
“It’s my lovely grape juice and it’s working—” moaned the woman in the gingham dress. But what she meant by “working” was not what the spectators were thinking of. She meant effervescing, while they simply saw liquid fireworks shooting around the car.
It was all over in a few moments, but the well intentioned man could not erase the stains from his expansive shirt front—it was hard enough to get the grape juice out of his eyes.
The blonde woman, whose bobbed head had been caught in the shower, seemed the one most injured, and she took no trouble to restrain her indignation!
“The idea! Carrying that stuff around!” she argued. “Just imagine! Black and blue grape juice,” and she swabbed her head frantically with all the handkerchiefs she could resurrect from pockets and hand bags. Blonde hair dyed wine color did look odd.
“I’m awfully sorry,” the gingham woman admitted. “It was just a present from my cousin Martha—”
“Then, why didn’t you hire a truck instead of buying a railway ticket,” fired back the crimson-spotted blonde. “Seems to me—” But her further arguments were lost in the sudden stopping of the train and the hurried getting off of the unfortunate grape juice owner.
She made opportunity for a smile to Nancy, however, as she edged her way out, and as she left the train it was the boy who had shouted “bomb” at the accident who pegged her the cork of that bottle. Strange to say, the woman caught the stopper, and bravely took the almost empty bottle from the rebellious bag, banged the cork in firmly, and was then on her way—with the bottle in one hand and the famous bag in the other.