Take out that bottle in the
corner of the basket, uncork it, and try again. The old man looks
up-he's smelled something. You hold the bottle toward him and you're
saying so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so, 'Oh, Mister, if you knew how
hard my poor old mother works to make this stuff! Won't you please
take a little taste of her improved grape juice and see if you don't
want to buy a few shillings' worth'--so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-
so--see what I mean? That's it, look pleading. Think how the little
home depends on it."
The old gentleman, first so rude, consented to taste the improved
grape juice. He put the bottle to his lips and tilted it. A camera
was brought up to record closely the look of pleased astonishment
that enlivened his face. He arose to his feet, tilted the bottle
again, this time drinking abundantly. He smacked his lips with
relish, glanced furtively at the group of women in the background,
caught the country boy by a sleeve and drew him farther along the
porch.
"He's telling you what fine stuff this grape juice is," explained
Baird; "saying that your mother must be a wonderful old lady, and
he'll drop over to meet her; and in the meantime he wants you to
bring him all this grape juice she has.
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