The door creaked. Glancing up, Penny momentarily was startled to see a large, grotesque shadow of a man moving across the glass panel. However, before she actually could be afraid, Jerry Livingston stepped into the room.
“Oh, it’s you!” she laughed in relief. “I thought it was against your principles to work overtime.”
The reporter slumped into a chair, and picking up a sheet of copy paper, began to read what Penny had composed.
“I’m not working,” he replied absently. “Just killing time.” With a yawn he tossed the paper on the desk again.
“Is my stuff that bad?” inquired Penny.
“Not bad at all. Better than Miss Hilderman writes. But society always gives me a pain. Not worthy of your talents, Penny.”
“I wish you would tell Dad that, Jerry. I’d love to work on a big story again—one that would rock Riverview on its foundation!”
“I could bear up under a little excitement myself, Penny. Ever since you broke the Green Door yarn, this sheet has been as dead as an Egyptian tomb.”
“Things may pick up soon.”
“Meaning—?”