Helen wasn't much better off. Her eyes looked like a pair of sealed-beam headlights, and the most intelligent sound she could summon was a faint, plaintive,
"Oooooh!"
Only Hank retained an iota of self-control. And to tell the truth, his comment was far from enlightening.
"Well!" he said. "So that's it!"
"What's what?" I asked him shakily. My paralysis was slipping away, and I prepared to do ditto. "Friends, did you see what I saw? Or has the little brown jug finally done what the Temperance Society told me it would do some day?"
Hank said, "Now, Jim! It ain't like you to act so. 'Specially when we've reached what you might call a crooshul moment. Hmm! Now, lemme see. You folks seen him most plain when he was what color? Blue?"
"Sort of. Bluish-green."
Helen said, "Greenish-blue."
"That's near enough," mused Hank. "That'd be—Hmmm!—'bout .0005 millimetres. I'll tell him that when he comes back—"