Part 22 (1/2)
”If they are as loose as I think they are, I might be able to get them out myself. Not tonight though.”
Penny felt in no mood to discuss future possibilities or even to consider them. Already cold, the misty air added to her physical discomfort.
”Better get a hot shower and go to bed,” Louise advised as they finally reached the Parker home. ”We'll talk things over in the morning.”
Not desiring to attract attention to herself, Penny entered the house by a side door. To her discomfiture, Mrs. Weems, who chanced to be getting a drink in the kitchen, saw the disheveled clothing.
”Why, Penny Parker!” she exclaimed. ”What have you done to yourself?”
”Nothing,” Penny mumbled. ”I'm just a little wet. I've been down in a well.”
”There are times when your jokes don't seem at all funny,” the housekeeper said sternly. ”How did you ruin your clothes?”
”That's the truth, Mrs. Weems. I was down in a well and I stepped off into the water--”
”Penny, you can't expect me to believe such a tall story. Now tell me exactly what _did_ happen.”
”Would it seem more reasonable if I said that I stumbled and fell into a ditch?”
”I rather thought something of the sort happened,” Mrs. Weems declared.
”How did the accident occur?”
”It didn't,” Penny maintained plaintively.
Escaping upstairs before the housekeeper could question her further, she took a hot shower and went to bed. She could hear a murmur of voices in the living room below, and knew that Mrs. Weems was discussing her ”behavior” with her father.
”Sometimes grownups are so unreasonable,” she sighed, snuggling into the covers. ”You tell them the truth and what they really want is a nice logical whopper!”
Penny slept soundly and did not awaken until the Sunday morning sun was high in the heavens. Sitting up in bed, she moved her arms experimentally. They were very sore and stiff. She swung her feet to the floor and groaned with pain.
”Guess I can't take it any more,” she muttered. ”I must be getting soft, or else it's old age sneaking up on me!”
Torturing herself with a limbering exercise, Penny dressed and went downstairs. Mrs. Weems had gone to church while Mr. Parker had submerged himself in fifty-eight pages of Sunday paper. Detouring around the living room, Penny went to the kitchen to prepare herself a belated breakfast.
She was picking at the nuts of a fruit salad found in the ice box when her father appeared in the doorway.
”Penny--” he began sternly.
”Where was I last night?” she interrupted. ”I've said before, and now repeat--in a well! A nice deep one with water in it.”
”When you're ready to tell me the real story, I shall listen,” Mr. Parker said quietly. ”Until that time, I must deprive you of your weekly allowance.”
”Oh, Dad!” Penny wailed. ”You know I'm stony broke! I won't be able to drive my car or even buy a hot dog!”
”That is your misfortune. Mrs. Weems says I have been entirely too indulgent with you, and I am inclined to agree with her. I've seldom checked your comings or goings, but in the future I shall expect you to tell me your plans when you leave the house at night.”
Having delivered his ultimatum, Mr. Parker quietly withdrew.
Penny had lost her appet.i.te for breakfast. Feeling much abused she banged out the kitchen door into the yard. Her first act was to inspect the gasoline tanks of both Leaping Lena and the maroon car. As she had feared, the combined fuel supply did not equal three gallons.