“Then he did leave you money!” exclaimed Penny triumphantly. “How much does the telegram say, Dad?”
“You may as well tell her, Mr. Parker,” sighed the housekeeper. “She’ll give me no peace until she learns every detail.”
“This message which is from a Montana lawyer mentions six thousand dollars,” returned the publisher. “Apparently, the money is to be turned over without legal delay.”
“Why, Mrs. Weems, you’re an heiress!” cried Penny admiringly.
“I can’t believe it’s true,” murmured Mrs. Weems. “You don’t think there’s any mistake, Mr. Parker? It would be too cruel if someone had sent the message as a joke.”
Before returning the telegram to the housekeeper, Mr. Parker switched off the radio.
“This message appears to be authentic,” he declared. “My congratulations upon your good fortune.”
“What will you do with all your money?” inquired Penny.
“Oh, I don’t know.” The housekeeper sank into a chair, her eyes fastening dreamily on a far wall. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”
Penny and her father exchanged a quick, alarmed glance. Mrs. Weems had been in charge of the household for so many years that they could not imagine living without her, should she decide to leave. During her brief, infrequent vacations, the house always degenerated into a disgrace of dust and misplaced furniture, and meals were never served at regular hours.