"Perhaps that's because I'm not famous."
"You will be after the prize award is announced," Penny assured her. "Everyone is saying your entry is the best."
"I do think the Black Imp is good," the girl admitted slowly. "Of course I was only joking about it a moment ago. I've labored over it for months and it's my best work. I'm hoping—almost praying that I'll win the prize. The money would mean everything to me."
Before either Penny or Susan could speak, an elderly woman clapped her hands sharply together to attract attention. Immediately the room became quiet.
"If you will kindly find seats, the program will start," the woman announced.
Susan and Penny secured chairs in the second row. When they looked about for Amy Coulter they noticed that she was sitting at the rear of the room, looking tense and worried.
"Miss Coulter was nice, wasn't she?" Susan whispered. "I hope her entry wins."
"So do I. You can tell this contest means a lot to her."
When Hanley Cron was introduced to the audience he was greeted with a mild round of applause in which Susan and Penny did not join. They listened closely to his speech however, and were forced to acknowledge that the man was a good public speaker. His manners before a crowd could not be criticized for he was both pleasant and witty. He praised in general terms all of the many fine entries in the contest, and mentioned perfunctorily his regret that each contestant could not be awarded the coveted prize.
Susan grew impatient. "Why doesn't he get to the point?" she fretted.