“Penny, haven’t I told you a dozen times—” Mr. Parker began, only to check himself. “Well, it will save us time now. However, we may discuss a few matters when we get home.”
The elevator shot them down to the first floor. Leaping Lena and the maroon sedan remained in the loading dock with a string of Star paper trucks blocking a portion of the street.
“Hey, sister,” a trucker called angrily to Penny. “It’s time you’re getting these cars out of here.” He broke off as he recognized Mr. Parker and faded behind one of the trucks.
“Dad, do you mind steering Lena?” Penny asked demurely. “We can’t leave her here. You can see for yourself that she seems to be blocking traffic.”
“Yes, I see,” Mr. Parker responded grimly.
“Of course, if you would feel more dignified driving the sedan—“
“Let me have the keys,” the publisher interrupted. “The important thing is to get home without delay.”
Penny became sober, and slid into her place at the wheel of Leaping Lena. Amid the smiles of the truckers, Mr. Parker drove the two cars out of the dock.
Once underway, the caravan made reckless progress through rush-hour traffic. More than once Penny whispered a prayer as Lena swayed around a corner, missing other cars by scant inches.
Presently the two automobiles drew up before a pleasant, tree-shaded home built upon a high terrace overlooking a winding river. Penny and her father alighted, walking hurriedly toward the front porch.