“That’s one consolation,” returned Penny, settling herself for the long ride home. “He can’t fire me. Being the editor’s daughter has its advantages.”
The regular night edition of the Riverview Star was on the street by the time they reached the city. Salt signaled a newsboy and bought a paper while the car waited for a traffic light. He tossed it over to Penny.
“Here it is! My story!” she cried, and then her face fell.
“What’s the matter?” asked Salt. “Did they garble it all up?”
“They’ve cut it down to three inches! And not a word about the alligator or the lost wedding ring! I could cry! Why, I told that rewrite man enough to fill at least a column!”
“Well, anyway you made the front page,” the photographer consoled. “They may build the story up in the next edition after they get my pictures.”
Penny said nothing, remaining in deep gloom during the remainder of the ride to the Star office. Salt let her out at the front door. She debated for a moment whether or not to go on home, but finally entered the building.
DeWitt was busy at his desk as she walked stiffly past. She hoped that he would notice how she ignored him, but he did not glance up from the copy before him.
Penny opened the door of her father’s private office and stopped short.
“Why, Dad?” she cried. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home in bed.”