“Maybe I oughtn’t to have said what I did. It was just my own idea.”
“I’m inclined to believe there may be something to it, Horney. Now supposing that Judson had stolen money or had been in prison—”
“It couldn’t have been that,” interrupted the pressman. “Why, Judson was so honest he bent over backwards.”
Penny was tempted to tell Horney about the clipping, but refrained from doing so. However, she was satisfied that employes of the Morning Press had gained no inkling of Mr. Judson’s prison record.
The picnic was well under way by the time Penny and the pressman arrived at the river cottage. A caterer had taken complete charge, and with his crew of helpers, prepared to serve nearly two hundred boisterous, hungry newspaper employes.
Always a favorite, Penny immediately was surrounded by a group of friends. Assured that Horney had found welcome with pressmen acquaintances, she entered wholeheartedly into the frivolity.
Jerry Livingston, frowning away all other young men, became her escort for the evening. After supper had been served, he guided her firmly away from the group.
“We don’t want to hear any speeches,” he said. “Let’s go look at the moon.”
“Can’t we see it here?” countered Penny.
“A moon to be appreciated properly must be seen from a sandy beach,” chuckled Jerry. “Preferably from a nice comfortable shoulder.”