Penny arose at six-thirty the next morning, and before breakfast had written a two-page story about John Munn for the Riverview High School Chatter. She read it twice and was very well pleased with her work.
“Editor Fred is lucky to get this,” she thought. “He should make it the lead story.”
Off to school at a quarter to nine, Penny deposited her literary treasure in a box provided for journalistic contributions. All that day she went from class to class, warmed by the knowledge that she had accomplished an excellent piece of writing. To Louise she confided that she thought the work might improve her grade in English Composition.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to contribute to the paper again,” declared her chum. “It’s time you and Fred buried the hatchet.”
“Oh, I don’t bear him any grudge,” returned Penny. “Of course, everyone knows he campaigned for the editorship with free candy and soda pop.”
At three-thirty, a minute before the closing bell rang, Fred Clousky sauntered down the aisle. With a flourish he dropped two pages of copy on Penny’s desk, face upward. Across one of the pages in huge blue letters had been written: “Too imaginative for Chatter. Language too flowery. Spelling bad. Try us again sometime.”
A red stain crept over Penny’s cheeks. Her blue eyes began to snap.
“The poisonous little mushroom!” she muttered. “If he thinks he can do this to me—”
The closing bell rang, and immediately a group of sympathetic friends gathered about Penny. They all tried to soothe her feelings.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Louise advised her chum. “Of course, he did it just to make you peeved.”