“What’s a running story?” Quigley asked curiously.
“I think Dad wants me to gather every fact I can,” Penny explained. “He wants a continuous story—enough material to fill a wire for several hours.”
“You’ll do it?”
“I don’t know,” Penny said doubtfully. “I’ve never handled a story as big as this—I’ve had no experience on anything so important.”
“There’s no other person to do it.”
“I want to find Louise,” Penny went on, rereading the message. “I ought to try to learn what happened to poor Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters.”
“Listen,” Quigley argued quietly. “You can’t do anything for your friends now. Don’t you see it’s your duty to get news out to the country? Your father expects it of you.”
Penny remained silent.
“Don’t you realize there’s no one else to send the news?” Quigley demanded. “You’re probably the only reporter within miles of here.”
“But I’m not really a reporter. I’ve written stories for Dad’s paper, it’s true. But not big stories such as this.”