“Maybe,” grinned Penny. “But Fred is such an egg, even more conservative than you.”
The cab drew up before the Parker home. A light still burned in the living room where Mrs. Weems, the housekeeper, sat reading a magazine.
“I am glad you have come, Penny,” she remarked, switching on another light. “I was beginning to worry.”
Since the death of Mrs. Parker many years before Mrs. Weems had taken complete charge of the household, caring for Penny and loving her as her own daughter. There were occasions when she found the impulsive girl difficult to restrain, but certainly never dull or uninteresting.
Mrs. Weems soon went to bed, leaving Penny and her father to explore the refrigerator. As they helped themselves to cold ham, potato salad, and celery, Penny spoke of the light which she had seen in the abandoned Morning Press building.
“It may have been a watchman making his usual rounds,” commented her father.
“Jerry tells me the building has no watchman.”
“Could it have been a reflection from a car headlight?”
“I don’t think so, Dad.”
“Well, I shouldn’t lose sleep over it,” remarked Mr. Parker lightly. “Better run along to bed now.”