"Yes, I didn't like the place very well. And it was too expensive for me."
"Where are you staying now?" Penny questioned, and then as the other girl hesitated for an answer, said quickly: "Don't tell me unless you wish."
"Of course I want you to know, Miss Nichols. I have a room on Fulton Avenue only a few blocks from here. If you have time I'd like to have you visit me. I am on my way home now."
"I'd like to accompany you," Penny said quickly. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
Amy Coulter looked surprised at such a response, but offered no comment. The girls devoted their conversation to casual subjects as they walked toward the rooming house.
Presently they paused before a drab looking building in a quiet street. Amy offered no apology as she led Penny up four flights of stairs to a tiny room on the top floor.
Penny noticed that Amy had arranged the cheap furniture to the best advantage. The gay home-made curtains at the window, bright pillows and an India cloth thrown over a battered old table, showed a nice appreciation of color values. The walls were attractive with fine paintings and etchings and in one corner of the room stood a box of statues and ceramics.
"You have some lovely things," Penny remarked admiringly.
"The paintings were done by my father. You may have heard his name—Eli Coulter."
"Why, he was famous as an artist and sculptor!" Penny exclaimed. "You are his daughter?"