CHAPTER 4 _A TURN OF FORTUNE_

Penny immediately locked her desk and gathered up hat and gloves. She was hard pressed to keep pace with her father as they hastened to the elevator.

"By the way, you have your car downstairs?" the publisher inquired absently. He seldom drove his own automobile to the office.

"What a memory you have, Dad!" chuckled Penny. "Yes, I have all two of them! Parked in the loading dock for convenience."

"Penny, haven't I told you a dozen times--" Mr. Parker began, only to check himself. "Well, it will save us time now. However, we may discuss a few matters when we get home."

The elevator shot them down to the first floor. Leaping Lena and the maroon sedan remained in the loading dock with a string of _Star_ paper trucks blocking a portion of the street.

"Hey, sister," a trucker called angrily to Penny. "It's time you're getting these cars out of here." He broke off as he recognized Mr. Parker and faded behind one of the trucks.

"Dad, do you mind steering Lena?" Penny asked demurely. "We can't leave her here. You can see for yourself that she seems to be blocking traffic."

"Yes, I see," Mr. Parker responded grimly.

"Of course, if you would feel more dignified driving the sedan--"

"Let me have the keys," the publisher interrupted. "The important thing is to get home without delay."

Penny became sober, and slid into her place at the wheel of Leaping Lena.

Amid the smiles of the truckers, Mr. Parker drove the two cars out of the dock.

Once underway, the caravan made reckless progress through rush-hour traffic. More than once Penny whispered a prayer as Lena swayed around a corner, missing other cars by scant inches.

Presently the two automobiles drew up before a pleasant, tree-shaded home built upon a high terrace overlooking a winding river. Penny and her father alighted, walking hurriedly toward the front porch.

The door stood open and from within came the rea.s.suring howl of a radio turned too high.

"Nothing so very serious can have happened," remarked Penny. "Otherwise, Mrs. Weems wouldn't have that thing going full blast."

At the sound of footsteps, the housekeeper herself came into the living room from the kitchen. Her plump face was unusually animated.

"I hope you didn't mind because I telephoned the office, Mr. Parker," she began apologetically. "I was so excited, I just did it before I stopped to think."

"Penny and I were nearly ready to start home in any case, Mrs. Weems. Has anything gone wrong here?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Parker. It was the telegram."

"Telegram? One for me, you mean?"

"No, my own." The housekeeper drew a yellow paper from the pocket of her ap.r.o.n, offering it to the publisher. "My Cousin David died out in Montana," she explained. "The funeral was last Sat.u.r.day."

"That's too bad," remarked Penny sympathetically. And then she added: "Only you don't look particularly sad, Mrs. Weems. How much did he leave you?"

"Penny! You say such shocking things! I never met Cousin David but once in my life. He was a kind, good man and I only wish I had written to him more often. I never dreamed he would remember me in his will."

"Then he did leave you money!" exclaimed Penny triumphantly. "How much does the telegram say, Dad?"

"You may as well tell her, Mr. Parker," sighed the housekeeper. "She'll give me no peace until she learns every detail."

"This message which is from a Montana lawyer mentions six thousand dollars," returned the publisher. "Apparently, the money is to be turned over without legal delay."

"Why, Mrs. Weems, you're an heiress!" cried Penny admiringly.

"I can't believe it's true," murmured Mrs. Weems. "You don't think there's any mistake, Mr. Parker? It would be too cruel if someone had sent the message as a joke."

Before returning the telegram to the housekeeper, Mr. Parker switched off the radio.

"This message appears to be authentic," he declared. "My congratulations upon your good fortune."

"What will you do with all your money?" inquired Penny.

"Oh, I don't know." The housekeeper sank into a chair, her eyes fastening dreamily on a far wall. "I've always wanted to travel."

Penny and her father exchanged a quick, alarmed glance. Mrs. Weems had been in charge of the household for so many years that they could not imagine living without her, should she decide to leave. During her brief, infrequent vacations, the house always degenerated into a disgrace of dust and misplaced furniture, and meals were never served at regular hours.

"The oceans are very unsafe, Mrs. Weems," discouraged Penny. "Wars and submarines and things. Surely you wouldn't dare travel now."

"Oh, I mean in the United States," replied the housekeeper. "I've always wanted to go out West. They say the Grand Canyon is so pretty it takes your breath away."

"Mrs. Weems, you have worked for us long and faithfully and deserve a rest," said Mr. Parker, trying to speak heartily. "Now if you would enjoy a trip, Penny and I will get along somehow for two or three weeks."

"Oh, if I go, I'll stay the entire summer." The housekeeper hesitated, then added: "I've enjoyed working here, Mr. Parker, but doing the same thing year after year gets tiresome. Often I've said to myself that if I had a little money I would retire and take life easy for the rest of my days."

"Why, Mrs. Weems, you're only forty-eight!" protested Penny. "You would be unhappy if you didn't have any work to do."

"At least, I wouldn't mind trying it."

"Such a change as you contemplate should be considered carefully,"

contributed Mr. Parker. "While six thousand seems a large sum it would not last long if one had no other income."

Before Mrs. Weems could reply, a strong odor of burning food permeated the room.

"The roast!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "I forgot it!"

Penny rushed ahead of her to the kitchen. As she jerked open the oven door, out poured a great cloud of smoke. Seizing a holder, she rescued the meat, and seeing at a glance that it was burned to a crisp, carried the pan outdoors.

"What will the neighbors say?" Mrs. Weems moaned. "I never did a thing like that before. It's just that I am so excited I can't think what I am doing."

"Don't you mind," laughed Penny. "I'll get dinner tonight. You entertain Dad."

With difficulty she persuaded the housekeeper to abandon the kitchen.

Left to herself, she opened a can of cold meat, a can of corn, a can of peaches, and with a salad already prepared, speedily announced the meal.

"Mr. Parker, I truly am ashamed--" Mrs. Weems began.