Conley raised his hand in a salute. "See you tomorrow at Central. If they don't keep you busy, look me up."
Mark watched him leave. Then he looked beamingly at Penelope. "Work! Every day! Eight o'clock! We'll have to get up before breakfast! Isn't it wonderful?"
But Penelope's bird-like eyes were bright. "He said there would be promotions and bonuses for those who show promise," she recalled. "I wish we had known that. We could have made a cleanup and gone into Central with a record that would make their eyes pop out. Anyhow"—she dug her pad of release blanks out of her pocket and began to figure on the back. "Let's see, fifty thousand from the little man who's playing a game with Central, twenty-five from the owner of the sidewalk, two thousand for the raspberry, five hundred each from two who made noises of disrespect, and a thousand from the man who doubted that your back was really broken. You could have collected two thousand from that last one," she said absently, "if you hadn't got cold feet. Anyway, that's seventy-nine thousand points. Now, then, twenty per cent of that is fifteen thousand, eight hundred points."
She wrote rapidly and held out the pad to Mark. "Sign my slip, please."