“That’s the truth, Mrs. Weems. I was down in a well and I stepped off into the water—”
“Penny, you can’t expect me to believe such a tall story. Now tell me exactly what did happen.”
“Would it seem more reasonable if I said that I stumbled and fell into a ditch?”
“I rather thought something of the sort happened,” Mrs. Weems declared. “How did the accident occur?”
“It didn’t,” Penny maintained plaintively.
Escaping upstairs before the housekeeper could question her further, she took a hot shower and went to bed. She could hear a murmur of voices in the living room below, and knew that Mrs. Weems was discussing her “behavior” with her father.
“Sometimes grownups are so unreasonable,” she sighed, snuggling into the covers. “You tell them the truth and what they really want is a nice logical whopper!”
Penny slept soundly and did not awaken until the Sunday morning sun was high in the heavens. Sitting up in bed, she moved her arms experimentally. They were very sore and stiff. She swung her feet to the floor and groaned with pain.
“Guess I can’t take it any more,” she muttered. “I must be getting soft, or else it’s old age sneaking up on me!”
Torturing herself with a limbering exercise, Penny dressed and went downstairs. Mrs. Weems had gone to church while Mr. Parker had submerged himself in fifty-eight pages of Sunday paper. Detouring around the living room, Penny went to the kitchen to prepare herself a belated breakfast. She was picking at the nuts of a fruit salad found in the ice box when her father appeared in the doorway.