Penny switched off the engine.

"I guess you're new around here," she said, climbing out. "The next truck isn't due until five-twenty-three."

"Say, who do you think you are, tellin' me--?"

The employee trailed off into silence as another workman gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.

"Pipe down," he was warned. "If the boss' daughter wants to park her jitney in the paper chute it's okay, see?"

"Sure, I get it," the other mumbled.

Penny grinned broadly as she crossed the loading area.

"After this, you might mention my automobile in a more respectful tone,"

she tossed over her shoulder. "It's not sc.r.a.p iron or a jitney either!"

Riding up the freight elevator, Penny pa.s.sed a few remarks with the smiling operator and stepped off at the editorial floor. She noticed as she went through the news room that Jerry Livingston's desk was vacant.

And because the waste basket was empty, the floor beside it free from paper wads, she knew he had written no story that day.

Penny tapped lightly on the closed door of her father's private office and went in.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, glancing up. "Just get back from Corbin?"

"Yes, Louise and I had plenty of excitement, but I didn't dig up any facts you'll dare print in the paper."

"Did you meet Jerry anywhere?"

"Why, no, Dad."

"The young cub is taking a vacation at my expense, running up a big motorboat bill! He should have been back here three hours ago."

"Oh, be reasonable, Dad," said Penny teasingly. "You can't expect him to trace down those men just in a minute."

"It was a wild chase anyway," the editor growled. "I let him do it more to please you than for any other reason. But that's beside the point. He was told to be back here by four o'clock at the latest, even if he had nothing to report."

"Jerry is usually punctual, Dad. But I suppose being on the river he couldn't get here just when he expected."

"He's probably gone fishing," Mr. Parker declared.

He slammed down the roll top on his desk and picked up his hat.

"Will you ride home with me?" Penny invited. "Leaping Lena would be highly honored."

"It's a mighty sight more comfortable on the bus," her father replied.

"But then, I can stand a jolting."

As they went out through the main room he paused to speak with DeWitt, leaving an order that he was to be called at his home as soon as Jerry Livingston returned.

Mr. Parker raised his eyebrows as he saw where Penny had left the car.

"Haven't I told you that the trucks need this s.p.a.ce to load and unload?"

he asked patiently. "There is a ten cent parking lot across the street."

"But Dad, I haven't ten cents to spare. The truth is, I spent almost every bit of my allowance today over at Corbin."

"NO!" said Mr. Parker firmly. "NO!"

"No what?"

"Not a penny will you get ahead of time."

"You misjudge me, Dad. I had no intention of even mentioning such a painful subject."

They drove in silence for a few blocks and then Penny indicated the gasoline gauge on the dashboard.

"Why, it's nearly empty!" she exclaimed. "We won't have enough to reach home!"

"Well, get some," said Mr. Parker automatically. "We don't want to stall on the street."

A flip of the steering wheel brought the car to a standstill in front of a gasoline pump.

"Fill it up," ordered Penny.

While Mr. Parker read his newspaper, the attendant polished the windshield and checked the oil, finding it low. At a nod from Penny he added two quarts.

"That will be exactly two fifty-eight."

Penny repeated the figure in a louder tone, giving her father a nudge.

"Wake up, Dad. Two fifty-eight."

Absently, Mr. Parker reached for his wallet. Not until the attendant brought the change did it dawn upon him that Penny had scored once more.

"Tricked again," he groaned.

"Why, it was your own suggestion that we stop for gasoline," Penny reminded him. "I shouldn't have minded taking a chance myself. You see, the gauge is usually at least a gallon off."

"Anyway, I would rather pay for it than have you siphon it out of my car."

"Thanks for the present," laughed Penny.

Dinner was waiting by the time they reached home. Afterwards, Penny helped Mrs. Weems with the dishes while her father mowed the lawn.

Hearing the telephone ring he came to the kitchen door.

"Was that a call for me?" he asked.

"No, Dad, it was for Mrs. Weems."

"Strange DeWitt doesn't call," Mr. Parker said. "I believe I'll telephone him."