“True, but it’s closed for the winter.”
“My iceboat is still there,” said Penny. “If you’re not afraid to ride with me, I could get you to Johnson’s Warehouse in nothing flat.”
“What are we waiting for?” demanded Mr. Parker.
Leaving the cab driver behind, Penny and her father ran most of the way to the club. The Icicle, covered with snow, runners frozen to the ice, remained where it had been abandoned.
“The sail’s here too!” Penny declared, burrowing in a box hidden deep in the cockpit. “In this wind, we’ll go places!”
“Are you sure you can handle the boat?” Mr. Parker asked anxiously. He had never ridden in the Icicle and from his daughter’s vivid descriptions, had no great desire to do so.
“I know I can start it going,” Penny replied with a quick laugh. “I’ll worry about stopping it when the time comes!”
They cleared the little boat of snow and pushed it out on the smooth ice of the river. Penny made certain that all the ropes were free running.
“Now you get in, Dad,” she advised as she hoisted the flapping sail. “I want to be sure where you are when the fireworks begin.”
The wind filled the big sail like a balloon. Nothing happened. The iceboat did not move an inch.