By keeping the motor running at high speed, Penny reached home without mishap. Her father had arrived ahead of her, she noted, for the maroon car had been put away for the night.
Locking the garage doors, Penny entered the house by way of the kitchen.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked the housekeeper, absently helping herself to a freshly baked cookie.
“Listen, and I think you can tell,” Mrs. Weems answered.
A loud hammering noise came from the basement. Inspired by an advertisement of Waldon’s Oak Paneling, Mr. Parker had decided to wall up the recreation room without the services of a carpenter. Much of his spare time was spent carrying on a personal feud with boards which refused to fit into the right places.
“Poor Dad,” Penny grinned as she heard a particularly loud exclamation of wrath. “I’ll go down and drip a few consoling words.”
Descending the stairs, she stood watching her father from the doorway of the recreation room.
“Hello, Penny,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “You may as well make yourself useful. Hold this board while I nail it in place.”
“All right, but be careful where you pound. Remember, I have only two hands and I prize them both.”
With Penny holding the board, Mr. Parker nailed it to the underpinning.