Then it was Maida’s turn; and as his eye lighted on her, she felt that shivery feeling in her hair dreadfully. When she was at home Maida had been scolded by mama and Aunt Mary, and once in a while by the cook when she ventured into the kitchen. At school she had been reprimanded once or twice by the Teacher—and the big Policeman on the corner—(his name was Murphy, and oh, how she wished he was by her side for he wasn’t afraid of anything)—well, Murphy had talked to her severely when she slipped across the street in front of the trolley car instead of waiting for him to lead her over. But never, oh, never, had anybody given her such a scolding as she got from Jack Frost. I can’t begin to tell you all he said, so I won’t tell you any of it—but when he finished poor Maida was sure she was the most foolish and wicked little girl who ever tried to find the North Pole. And all the time the Man with the Growly Voice was tinkering with the Can of Climate and turning little handles and pressing little levers. Maida was on pins and needles, for something seemed to have gone wrong.
In the Cake of Ice
Her attention was attracted by four of the Ice-Guards, who dragged up a huge black box. Looking closer Maida saw it was a tank filled with water, while the front was made of glass, just like the aquarium where they keep the fish. Instinctively she clung to Fido, for she felt something was going to happen—and it did. Two of the Ice-Guards seized her, and drew her to the side of the tank. Oh, it was just like a nightmare. It seemed that nobody could move, or speak, or do anything to help her—something dreadful was going on, and she couldn’t cry and she couldn’t call out. She was not left long in suspense. Jack Frost picked her up, just as you would pick up a kitten, held her over the tank, and dropped her in the water. Down, down, down she sank to the very bottom. She looked through the glass and saw all her friends outside, and she stretched out her arms to them for help. Then Jack Frost waved the white sword. All the water in the tank instantly froze, the sides of the tank fell away, and there she was—not drowned but frozen in a solid cake of ice. Oh, it was deathly cold, and she couldn’t move—and she could not get her breath. And then—ssssssshhhh, the Man with the Growly Voice opened the can of climate. Well, you never saw anything like it. The Ice-Guards disappeared in a cloud of steam—the falling snow turned to rose leaves, then to a rain of lovely flowers. The ice and snow disappeared like magic, the ice block that imprisoned Maida simply vanished, and she found herself free. The air was full of Spring. Jack Frost gave a horrible yell and flew away. Fido clasped Maida in his paws and danced for joy. Everybody danced and sang, for palm trees and banana plants and lovely creepers and runners were growing all about—produced by the tropical climate. The Candy Kid smiled at Jack-in-the-Box.
The Explorer Turns on the Tropical Climate