After the third “take,” DeWitt called: “That’s enough. Make her ‘30.’”
Penny understood the term. It signified the end of the story, and usually when reporters had completed an article, they wrote the figure at the bottom of the copy sheet.
Finishing the sentence she had started, she gave the last of her story to the boy, and settling back, took a deep breath. DeWitt’s chair was empty. He had gone to the composing room, leaving his assistant to handle the final copy that came through before the presses rolled.
Penny knew that the last page she had written probably would not make the edition, but it did not matter. She had crammed all the important and most interesting of her information into the first part of the story. In any event, everything she had written would be used in the second edition, the Three Star, which followed the Green Streak by two hours. The final edition rolled from the presses later in the evening and was known as the Blue Streak.
A well-built, good looking reporter with a pencil tucked behind one ear, walked over to the desk.
“Big day, Penny?” he inquired affectionately.
Jerry Livingston, who rated as the Star’s best reporter, also stood at the very top of Penny’s long list of friends.
With Jerry, Penny always felt comfortable and at ease. Now she found herself telling him about the Rhett case, omitting few details of what had occurred in the thatched roof cottage. It took longer to relate all the events than Penny realized, for, before she had finished the story, the Green Streak edition was up, and a boy was distributing papers about the office. Penny reached eagerly for one, noting instantly that her article appeared in good position on the front page.
“Wonder who wrote the lead?” she asked. “You, Jerry?”
“Guilty,” he laughed. “Any mistakes?”