“Nothing like this ever happened before—I’m sure of that,” Penny said dismally. “What ought I to do, Salt?”
“Not a thing,” he assured her. “Just show up for work tomorrow the same as ever and don’t think any more about it. I’ll get the camera back, and by tomorrow DeWitt will have forgotten everything.”
“You’re very optimistic,” Penny returned. “Very optimistic indeed.”
Not wishing to return through the newsroom, she slipped down the back stairs and took a bus home. The Parker house stood on a knoll high above the winding river and was situated in a lovely district of Riverview. Only a few blocks away lived Louise Sidell, who was Penny’s closest friend.
Reluctant to face her father, Penny lingered for a while in the dark garden, snipping a few roses. But presently a kitchen window flew up, and Mrs. Maude Weems, the family housekeeper called impatiently:
“Penny Parker, is that you prowling around out there? We had our dinner three hours ago. Will you please come in and explain what kept you so long?”
Penny drew a deep sigh and went in out of the night. Mrs. Weems stared at her in dismay as she entered the kitchen.
“Why, what have you done to yourself!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing.”
“You look dreadful! Your hair isn’t combed—your face is dirty—and your clothes! Why, they smell of smoke!”