“Oh, so it’s that way! You think Penny should write the story?”
“I do, Chief. It’s hers from the ground floor up.”
“Please, Dad, may I?” Penny pleaded.
The cab rolled up to the Star office, stopping with a jerk. Mr. Parker swung open the door, helping her alight.
“The story is yours, Penny,” he said. “That is, if you can crack it out fast enough to make the extra.”
“I’ll do it or die in the attempt.”
“Keep to the facts and write terse, simple English—” Mr. Parker began, but Penny did not wait to hear his instructions.
With a triumphant laugh, she ran ahead into the Star office. Her entry into the newsroom was both dramatic and noisy.
“Big scoop, Mr. DeWitt,” she called cheerily. “Start the old print factory running full blast!”
Dropping into a chair behind the nearest typewriter, she began to write.