Dick grinned.
“Dye!” he chuckled. “If you want special food or drink you have to dye-it!”
“To diet!” Jeff caught the pun. “That-there’s a hot one!”
“It leaves me ‘cold’,” Larry came back at him. “But I’m interested about this ice.”
“Why?” asked Mr. Everdail, curiously.
“It’s simple enough,” the youngest member of the Sky Patrol broke in. “They pour some of the lemonade into the compartments in the ice-trays and freeze that. It is better than plain ice because it doesn’t weaken the lemonade at all.”
“That’s right,” Larry agreed. “Why, Mr. Everdail, I was only curious. I don’t know much about refrigerating plants and I didn’t think they could turn the ice any color they liked—but I see they can.”
He dropped the subject, finished his drink and, with the others, partook of a frozen sherbet also prepared in the yacht’s icing plant.
Finished, they were invited on deck to see the sights of Manhattan’s night sky, with its millions of electric bulbs, on signs and in high windows, and on skyscraper domes, painting a fairy picture against a dark heaven.
“What made you speak about the tinted ice?” Sandy asked, softly.