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.

“Now don’t apologize for my cooking,” broke in Penny. “Quantity before quality is my motto. Anyway, if you are leaving, Dad will have to accustom himself to it.”

“I’ll hide the can opener,” said Mr. Parker.

“That’s a good idea, Dad.”

“Before I go, I’ll try to teach Penny a little more about cooking,” Mrs. Weems said uncomfortably. “Of course, you’ll have no difficulty in getting someone efficient to take my place.”

“No one can take your place,” declared Penny. “If you leave, Dad and I will go to wrack and ruin.”

“You are a pair when you’re left to yourselves,” Mrs. Weems sighed. “That’s the one thing which makes me hesitate. Penny needs someone to keep her in check.”

“An inexperienced person would be putty in my hands,” declared Penny. “You may as well decide to stay, Mrs. Weems.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’ve planned on this trip for years. Now that it is possible, I feel I can’t give it up.”

Penny and Mr. Parker regarded each other across the table, and immediately changed the subject. Not until that moment had they actually believed that the housekeeper was serious about leaving Riverview. Somehow they had never contemplated a future without Mrs. Weems.

“I happen to have two complimentary tickets to a show at the Rialto,” Mr. Parker said offhand. “I’ll be tied up with a meeting tonight, but you folks might enjoy going.”

“Shall we, Mrs. Weems?” inquired Penny.

“Thank you,” responded the housekeeper, “but I doubt if I could sit still tonight. I thought I would run over to see Mrs. Hodges after dinner. She’ll be pleased to learn about my inheritance, I know.”

“A friend of yours?” asked Mr. Parker.

“Yes, Penny and I have been acquainted with her for years. She lives on Christopher Street.”

“Perhaps this is none of my affair, Mrs. Weems. However, my advice to you is not to tell many persons about your inheritance.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hodges is to be trusted.”

“I am sure of it, Mrs. Weems. I refer to strangers.”

“I’ll be careful,” the housekeeper promised. “No one ever will get that money away from me once I have it!”

Penny helped with the dishes, and then as her father was leaving the house, asked him if she might have the two theatre tickets.

“Since Mrs. Weems doesn’t care to go, I’ll invite Louise,” she explained.

Mr. Parker gave her the tickets. Making certain that the housekeeper was upstairs, he spoke in a low tone.

“Penny, Mrs. Weems is serious about leaving us. You must try to dissuade her.”

“What can I do, Dad?”

“Well, you usually have a few ideas in the old filing cabinet. Can’t you think of something?”

“I’ll do my best,” Penny said with a twinkle. “We can’t let an inheritance take Mrs. Weems from us, that’s certain.”

After her father had gone, Penny telephoned Louise, agreeing to meet her chum at the entrance of the Rialto. Arriving a few minutes early, she idly watched various cars unloading their passengers at the theatre.

Presently a long black limousine which Penny recognized drew up at the curb. The chauffeur opened the door. Mr. Kohl and his wife stepped to the pavement. Observing the girl, they paused to chat with her.

“I see you have the new fender installed on your car, Mr. Kohl,” Penny remarked with a grin. “May I ask how much I owe the garageman?”

“The sum was trifling,” responded the banker. “Twelve dollars and forty cents to be exact. I may as well take care of it myself.”

“No, I insist,” said Penny, wincing inwardly. “You see, I am one of the Star’s highly paid executives now. I write society in Miss Hilderman’s absence and Dad gives me a salary.”

“Oh, really,” remarked Mrs. Kohl with interest. “We are giving a dinner for eight tomorrow night.