“But you do it anyway?”
“Of course. I slip away whenever I can,” Sara admitted cheerfully. “Skiing is in my blood. I couldn’t give it up.”
“And you don’t mind deceiving your grandfather?”
“You don’t understand. There’s no reasoning with him. Each year he gets a little more set in his ways. He knows that I slip away to ski, and that’s why he locks me up. Otherwise, Grandfather is a dear. He’s taken care of me since my father died.”
Sara wriggled into her awkward-fitting coat, wrapped a red scarf about her throat and started for the door.
“Coming, Penny?”
“I haven’t promised yet that I will help you get back into your cubby-hole.”
“But you will,” said Sara confidently.
“I suppose so,” sighed Penny. “Nevertheless, I don’t particularly like this.”
They stepped out of the cabin into the blinding sunlight. The storm had stopped, but the wind blew a gust of snow from the roof into their faces.