The message was sent, and within a few hours a reply arrived, addressed to Penny.
"COMING ANYWAY," it read. "AM BRINGING YOU A BEAR RUG TOGETHER WITH A NICE BEAR HUG."
As if pleasant surprises never would end, still another came Penny's way.
Police notified her that among the tires seized at the Johnson Warehouse was a set of five belonging to her stripped car.
"You're much better off than I," Mr. Parker teased her. "Your car now is in running order again. Mine will be in the garage for many a day. I'll have to pay my own repair bill, too."
"Unless the hit-skip driver is found."
"I'm afraid he never will be," sighed Mr. Parker. "I'll always believe the men who crowded me off the road were hired by the tire-theft gang. No way to prove it though."
"The car license number Mrs. Botts gave police didn't seem to be accurate," Penny replied. "By the way, have you decided what you'll do about her?"
"Mrs. Botts?"
"Yes, so far you've placed no formal charge against her."
Mr. Parker smiled as he reached for a final edition of the _Star_. The paper carried not only an account of the round-up at Johnson's Warehouse, but a full confession from Mrs. Botts.
"I bear the woman no ill will," he said. "She's already lost her position as caretaker at the Deming estate. That's punishment enough as far as I'm concerned."
Presently Mrs. Weems entered the living-room with a glass of milk. When she tried to make the publisher take it he complained that he no longer was an invalid.
"Now drink your milk like a good lad," Penny scolded. "Why, you're still as thin as a ghost."
With a wry face Mr. Parker gulped down the drink.
"Let's not speak of ghosts," he pleaded. "I'm well now, and I don't like to be reminded of those disgraceful night-shirt parades."
"Are you sure you're perfectly well?" teased Penny.
"Of course I am. My memory is as good as it ever was!"
"Haven't you forgotten a rather important financial item?"
Mr. Parker looked puzzled. Then light broke over his face.
"Your allowance! I've not paid it for a long while, have I?"
"You certainly haven't," grinned Penny. "The old till is painfully empty.
I can use a little folding money to good advantage."
Her father smiled and opened his pocketbook. "Here you are," he said. "Go out and paint the town red!"
When Penny thumbed over the little stack of "folding money" she drew in her breath. Then she leaped to her feet in youthful exuberance.
"Oh, Dad, you're a darling!" she cried. "Why, this will buy a brush and a whole barrel of red paint! Look out, Riverview, here I come!"