Mrs. Weems sighed as she gathered up the lunch basket and thermos bottle. Penny barely had tasted the food.
“When will you be home?” the housekeeper asked.
“I can’t say exactly. After the night editions are out. Don’t sit up for me.”
“You know I couldn’t go to bed until you are home,” Mrs. Weems responded. “You’ll take a taxi?”
“Of course,” promised Penny.
After the housekeeper had gone, she plunged into her duties once more. With the force short of two men, DeWitt and Schirr, there really was too much work for the desk men to do unassisted. Penny wrote headlines, copy-read stories, and passed on all matters of policy. So busy did she keep, that when at length she glanced at her watch, it was eleven-thirty.
“Gracious!” she thought. “And Mrs. Weems will be waiting up for me!”
Saying goodnight to the men who would carry on in her absence, she went down the back stairs to the street. As she glanced about for a taxicab, she saw Old Mose Johnson shuffling toward the loading dock.
“Good evening,” she greeted him. “I’m glad to see you’re ahead of time tonight.”
“Good evenin’, Miss Penny,” the colored man said, doffing his tattered hat. “Yas’m. I’se heah, but I seed dat same ghost a-lurkin’ behind de gate!”