“I knew you wouldn’t give out any information,” Penny said in relief. “But somehow Harley Schirr has learned about it.”
“Schirr! That egg? How could he have found out?”
“I’d like to know myself. He hinted that something dreadful might happen to Dad if the story is printed.”
Jerry patted Penny’s hand. “Don’t give it a thought, kid,” he said. “Schirr does a lot of wild talking. Probably whatever he said to you was pure bluff. He doesn’t know a thing.”
The arrival of the cab at the station put an end to the conversation. Jerry paid the driver and hustled Penny inside. He barely had time to purchase a ticket before the train was called.
“Well, goodbye,” Jerry said, squeezing her hand.
“Have a good time in Canada,” Penny replied. “And bring me a nice bear rug!”
“Sure, I’ll catch him with my bare hands,” Jerry rejoined, making a feeble attempt at a joke.
The train began to move. The reporter swung himself aboard the last Pullman. As he waved from the steps, Penny realized that she had forgotten to ask for his Canadian address.
Soon the train was only a blur down the frosty tracks. Penny climbed a steep ramp to the street. She felt lonesome, and for some reason, discouraged.