“Of course.”
Mr. Parker reached for a cheque book. “How much will you need?”
“Oh, just sign your name at the bottom and leave the amount blank.”
“Sorry, I prefer not to financially cripple myself for life. One hundred dollars is my limit. I’m throwing it down a sink-hole, but the lessons you’ll learn may be worth the cost.”
“I can do a lot with a hundred dollars,” said Penny. “Thanks, Dad.”
She picked up the cheque before the ink was dry and, dropping a kiss lightly on her father’s cheek, was gone.
From the corner drugstore Penny telephoned Louise, telling her the news and asking her to come downtown at once. Fifteen minutes later her chum met her at the entrance to the Morning Press building.
“Just think, Lou!” she murmured, unlocking the front door. “This huge plant all mine! I’m a publisher at last!”
“You’re completely insane if you ask me,” retorted Louise. “This place is a dreadful mess. You’ll never be able to clean it up, let alone get out an issue of the paper!”
The girls had passed through the vestibule to the lower floor room which once had served as the Press’ circulation department. Behind the high service counter, desks and chairs remained untouched, covered by a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling light fixtures and festooned the walls.