a few months ago by a man named George Veeley. Come to think of it, I once brought him home with me. You should remember him, Penny.”

“I do. He was rather nice. I wonder what he plans to do with the Press building and its equipment.”

“Hold it for speculation, I assume. In my opinion he’ll have it empty for a long while.”

“I rather doubt it,” said Penny. “He has a prospective tenant now, only he doesn’t know it.”

“Indeed? Who?”

“You’re looking at her.”

“You!” Mr. Parker smiled broadly.

“I have it all planned,” announced Penny with quiet finality. “What this town needs is a good, live newspaper, and an imaginative editor to run it.”

“Oh, I see.” With difficulty Mr. Parker kept his face composed. “And where do you propose to start your newspaper? In the old Press building?”

“You took the words out of my mouth, Dad. Everything is there, awaiting the touch of my magic wand.”

“There’s a little matter of rent. Several thousand a month.”

“I have a solution for that problem.”

“Your staff?”

“I’ll gather it as I prosper.”

“The necessary capital?”

“A mere detail,” said Penny grandly. “I meet only one obstacle at a time. Tomorrow I shall accost Mr. Veeley with an attractive proposition. If he falls into my net, Riverview’s newest paper, The Weekly Times, makes its bow to the public.”

CHAPTER
5
COBWEBS AND RUST

“My dear young lady, do I understand you correctly? You are asking for the use of the Morning Press building without the payment of rent.”

Mr. Veeley, slightly bald and with a bulging waistline, regarded Penny across the polished mahogany desk. Upon arriving at his office that Saturday morning, he had found the girl awaiting him. For the past ten minutes she had stunned him with her remarkable figures and plans.

“Yes, that’s about the size of it,” Penny acknowledged. “What Riverview needs is a newspaper unhampered by the conservatism of over-aged minds. Now you have a fine building and equipment which is standing idle, fast falling into decay—”

“Decay?” Mr. Veeley inquired mildly.

“Expensive machinery soon rusts and becomes practically worthless unless kept in use,” declared Penny with authority. “If you’ll agree to my proposition, I’ll publish a weekly paper there, see that your property is kept in good condition, and turn the plant back to you whenever you can find a prosperous renter.”

“Your father sent you here?”

“Oh, goodness, no! Dad thinks it’s all a great joke. But it isn’t! I know I can make a success of the paper if only I have a chance to test my ideas.”

Mr. Veeley could not fail to be impressed by Penny’s earnest, appealing manner. The novelty of her plan both amused and intrigued him.

“I wish I could help you start your paper,” he said. “However, I doubt if you comprehend the cost of such a venture. Even should I permit the use of my building rent free, how would you meet such expenses as light, water and heat?”

“Oh, I have a plan for everything,” insisted Penny grandly. “All I need is a building. I’ll have the windows washed for you and do a good job of house cleaning. With me in charge you’ll be able to dismiss your watchman.”

“I haven’t one.”

“No watchman?” Penny inquired innocently. “Last night when I drove past the building I saw a light on the third floor. Evidently someone is prowling about there, Mr. Veeley.”

“You’re certain you saw a light?” the man inquired, disturbed by the information.

“Oh, yes, indeed. Excuse me for advising you, Mr. Veeley, but you really should have someone to guard your property.”

Mr. Veeley smiled broadly. “You are a very convincing young lady. While I realize it is a foolish thing to do, I am tempted to let you have the key.”

“Oh, Mr. Veeley, that’s wonderful! You’ll never regret it!”

“I’ll allow you the use of the building for a month,” resumed Mr. Veeley. “At the end of that time we’ll discuss the future.”

Penny was thrown into such a frenzy of excitement that she scarcely could remain outwardly serene until she had left the office. Once on the street she ran the entire distance to the Star building, dashing into her father’s suite with all the sound effects of a laboring steam engine.

“Dad!” she cried dramatically. “I have it! The key to the Morning Press plant! Now I’m on my way to draw my savings from the bank.”

“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Parker. “Don’t tell me Mr. Veeley listened to your crazy scheme!”

“He’s heartily in favor of it, Dad. Now I must rush off to the bank.”

“Come back here,” her father commanded as she started for the door. “I can’t allow you to withdraw your savings.”

“How can I launch the Weekly Times without capital?”

“You’re really determined to try it?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Parker reached for a cheque book. “How much will you need?”

“Oh, just sign your name at the bottom and leave the amount blank.”

“Sorry, I prefer not to financially cripple myself for life. One hundred dollars is my limit. I’m throwing it down a sink-hole, but the lessons you’ll learn may be worth the cost.”

“I can do a lot with a hundred dollars,” said Penny. “Thanks, Dad.”

She picked up the cheque before the ink was dry and, dropping a kiss lightly on her father’s cheek, was gone.

From the corner drugstore Penny telephoned Louise, telling her the news and asking her to come downtown at once. Fifteen minutes later her chum met her at the entrance to the Morning Press building.

“Just think, Lou!” she murmured, unlocking the front door. “This huge plant all mine! I’m a publisher at last!”

“You’re completely insane if you ask me,” retorted Louise. “This place is a dreadful mess. You’ll never be able to clean it up, let alone get out an issue of the paper!”

The girls had passed through the vestibule to the lower floor room which once had served as the Press’ circulation department. Behind the high service counter, desks and chairs remained untouched, covered by a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling light fixtures and festooned the walls.

Climbing the stairs, the girls glanced briefly into the newsroom, and then wandered on to the composing room. Penny’s gaze roved over long rows of linotype machines and steel trucks which were used to hold page forms. There were bins of type, Cheltenham, Goudy, Century—more varieties than she had ever seen before.

Passing the stereotyping department, the girls entered the press room where slumbered ten giant double-decked rotary presses. Lying on the roller of one was a torn strip of newspaper, the last issue of the Morning Press ever printed.

“It gives one a queer feeling to see all this,” said Louise. “Why do you suppose Judson closed the plant when it was prosperous?”

“No one seems to know the answer,” Penny replied, stooping to peer into an empty ink pot. “But it doesn’t seem possible a man would give up his business, throw so many persons out of work, without a good reason.”

“His bad luck seems to be yours,” Louise remarked gloomily. “Well, since you’ve fallen heir to all this, what will