The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels by Mildred Benson

does,” agreed the cook, frowning. “I never did understand it. And then the way Mrs. Kippenberg changed all the servants!”
    “You mean after Mr. Kippenberg went away?”
    “She fired everyone except me. I guess she knew she couldn’t get another cook half as good if she let me go. Right away I struck for more money and she gave it to me without a whimper. But since then she works me like a dog.”
    Mrs. Latch clattered the lid of the garbage can into place and turned toward the house. But as Penny once more fell into step with her, she paused and regarded the girl with sudden suspicion.
    “Say, why am I telling you all this anyway? Who are you? You’re not one of those sneaking reporters?”
    “Do I look like a reporter?” countered Penny.
    “Well, no, you don’t,” admitted Mrs. Latch. “But you’re as inquisitive as one. You must be the girl who brought Miss Sylvia’s new dress from the LaRue Shoppe.”
    Penny hesitated too long over her reply, and the woman gazed at her sharply.
    “You are a reporter!” she exclaimed with conviction. “And you’ve been deliberately pumping me! Of all the tricks! I’ll tell Miss Kippenberg!”
    “Wait, I can explain.”
    Mrs. Latch paid no heed. With an angry toss of her head she hastened into the house.
    “Overstepped myself again,” Penny thought in dismay. “I’ll be getting away from here while the getting is good.”
    Turning, she ran down the walk toward the river, only to stop short as she reached the boat dock. The drawbridge was in open position and the old watchman did not appear to be at his usual post. She had no way of reaching the mainland.
    CHAPTER 12
    FISHERMAN’S LUCK
    Penny looked anxiously about for a means of crossing the river. There were no small boats available and the only person who stood on the opposite shore was Jerry Livingston. The other reporters and photographers, evidently tiring of their long vigil, had gone away.
    She cupped her hands and shouted to Jerry: “How am I going to get over there? Can you lower the bridge?”
    “The mechanism is locked,” called back the reporter. “And the watchman won’t be back for an hour.”
    Penny walked a short distance up the shore searching for a boat. The only available craft was the large launch which she could not hope to operate. She might return to the house and appeal to Miss Kippenberg but such a course was not to her liking.
    As she considered whether or not to ruin her clothing by swimming across, Jerry called her attention to a small boat some distance up the river. The boy who was fishing from it obligingly rowed ashore after Penny had signaled him.
    “I’ll give you fifty cents to ferry me across,” she offered.
    “I’ll be glad to do it,” he agreed.
    Penny stepped into the boat and then asked:“Aren’t you the same lad I saw here yesterday?”
    The boy nodded as he reached for the oars. “I remember you,” he answered.
    “You seem to fish here nearly every day.”
    “Just about. I caught some nice ones today.”Proudly he held up two large fish for her to see.
    “Beauties,” praised Penny. “I take it the motor boats haven’t been bothering you as much as they were.”
    “It’s been pretty quiet on the river today,” the boy agreed. “Want to see something else I fished up?”
    “Why, yes. What did you hook, a mud turtle?”
    The boy opened a large wooden box which contained an assortment of rope, fishing tackle and miscellaneous articles. He lifted out a man’s high silk hat, bedraggled and shapeless.
    “You fished that out of the water?” Penny demanded, leaning forward to take the article from him. “Where did you find it?”
    “Up there a ways.” The boy motioned vaguely toward a point on the Kippenberg estate.
    Penny turned the hat over in her hand, examining it closely. She found no identifying marks, yet she believed that it had belonged to Grant Atherwald for he had worn similar headdress. The point indicated by the boy was not far distant