With a deep sigh, Penny sat down to breakfast. Worry over the coming interview did not interfere with her usual excellent appetite. She had orange juice, two slices of toast, four pancakes, and then, somewhat concerned lest she lose her slim figure, debated whether to ask for another helping.
“The batter’s all gone,” Mrs. Weems settled the matter. “Do stop dawdling and get on to the office. Your father shouldn’t be kept waiting.”
With anything but enthusiasm, Penny took herself to the plant of the Riverview Star. Passing through the busy newsroom where reporters pounded at their typewriters, she entered her father’s private office.
“Hello, Dad,” she greeted him with forced cheerfulness. “Mrs. Weems said you wanted to see me.”
“So you lost five tires last night?” the editor barked. Mr. Parker was a lean, keen-eyed man of early middle age, known throughout the state as a fearless newspaper man. At the moment, Penny decided that “fearful” would prove a more descriptive term.
“Well, Dad, it was this way—” she began meekly.
“Never mind a long-winded explanation,” he interrupted, smiling. “It wasn’t your fault—the car was stripped.”
Penny wondered if she had heard correctly.
“Your tires weren’t the only ones stolen yesterday,” Mr. Parker resumed. “A half dozen other thefts were reported. In fact, I’ve known for several weeks that a professional gang of tire thieves has been operating in Riverview.”
“Oh, Dad, you’re a peach!” Penny cried, making a dive for him. “I’m going to give you a great big kiss!”