The incident, although trifling, annoyed Penny. Getting up from the desk, she walked to the window. Mr. Schirr’s intimation had alarmed her, and now the telephone call added to her uneasiness.
“Probably the man who telephoned is well known to Dad,” she tried to assure herself. “I’m just imagining that his voice sounded sinister.”
Feeling the need of an occupation, Penny wandered out into the editorial room. She chatted with the society editor and for a time watched the world news reports coming in on the noisy teletype machines.
“Need a job?” inquired Editor DeWitt at the slot of the circular copy desk. “How about writing a few headlines for me?”
“No, thanks,” Penny declined. “I’m just waiting for Dad. He should be back any minute now.”
It was eleven-forty by the office clock. Never had time seemed to pass so slowly. As Penny debated whether or not to wait any longer, there was a sudden stir in the room. Glancing toward the outside door, she saw that Jerry Livingston, suitcase in hand, had entered.
Immediately reporters and editors left their desks to shake his hand.
“Jerry, you’re the best reporter this paper ever had,” Mr. DeWitt told him warmly. “We surely hate to see you go.”
“Oh, I’ll be back,” the reporter answered. “You can bet on that!”
Penny crossed the room to say goodbye. Jerry surprisingly tucked her arm through his.