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The
Wishing
Well
_By_
MILDRED A. WIRT
_Author of_
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS
_Illustrated_
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_
NEW YORK
_PENNY PARKER_
MYSTERY STORIES
_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_
TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER
GHOST BEYOND THE GATE
HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE
VOICE FROM THE CAVE
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
SIGNAL IN THE DARK
WHISPERING WALLS
SWAMP ISLAND
THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT, 1942, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.
The Wishing Well
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
1 AN OLD HOUSE _1_
2 BY THE COVERED WELL _10_
3 CHICKEN DINNER _21_
4 A RECORD ON ROCK _27_
5 STRANGERS FROM TEXAS _39_
6 A WISH FULFILLED _46_
7 PENNY'S DISCOVERY _54_
8 A MOVING LIGHT _62_
9 MYSTERIOUS PROWLERS _70_
10 BENEATH THE FLAGSTONES _79_
11 JAY FRANKLIN'S TRICKERY _86_
12 NO ADMITTANCE _94_
13 A SILKEN LADDER _101_
14 NIGHT ADVENTURE _110_
15 OLD BOTTLES _117_
16 INSIDE THE MANSION _124_
17 THE MARBOROUGH PEARLS _133_
18 SIGNBOARD INDIANS _140_
19 PUBLICITY PLUS _149_
20 RHODA'S PROBLEM _158_
21 MRS. MARBOROUGH'S LOSS _168_
22 THE MISSING NECKLACE _175_
23 GRAND BALL _185_
24 RIVER RISING _195_
25 PRECIOUS CARGO _202_
CHAPTER
1
_AN OLD HOUSE_
At her desk in the assembly room of Riverview High School, Penny Parker
sat poised for instant flight. Her books had been stacked away, and she
awaited only the closing bell to liberate her from a day of study.
"Now don't forget!" she whispered to her chum, Louise Sidell, who
occupied the desk directly behind. "We start for the old Marborough place
right away!"
The dismissal bell tapped. Penny bolted down the aisle and was one of the
first to reach the door. However, hearing her name called, she was forced
to pause.
"Penelope, will you wait a moment please?" requested the teacher in
charge of assembly.
"Yes, Miss Nelson," Penny dutifully responded, but she shot her chum a
glance of black despair.
"What have you done now?" Louise demanded in an accusing whisper.
"Not a thing," muttered Penny. "About ten minutes ago I clipped Fred
Green with a paper ball, but I don't think she saw me."
"Get out of it as fast as you can," Louise urged. "Unless we start for
the Marborough place within half an hour we'll have to postpone the
trip."
While the other pupils filed slowly from the room, Penny slumped back
into her seat. She was a tall, slim girl with mischievous blue eyes which
hinted of an active mind. Golden hair was accented by a brown sweater
caught at the throat with a conspicuous ornament, a weird looking animal
made of leather.
"Penelope, I don't suppose you know why I asked you to remain," observed
the teacher, slowly coming down the aisle.
"Why, no, Miss Nelson." Penny was far too wise to make damaging
admissions.
"I want to talk to you about Rhoda Wiegand."
"About Rhoda?" Penny echoed, genuinely surprised. The girl was a new
student at Riverview, somewhat older than the members of her class, and
lived in a trailer camp at the outskirts of the city.
Miss Nelson seated herself at a desk opposite Penny, thus indicating that
she meant the talk to be friendly and informal.
"Penelope," she resumed, "you are president of the Palette Club. Why has
Rhoda never been taken in as a member? She is one of our most talented
art students."
"Some of the girls don't seem to like Rhoda very well," Penny answered,
squirming uncomfortably. "We did talk about taking her into the club, but
nothing came of it."
"As president of the organization, couldn't you arrange it?"
"I suppose so," Penny admitted, frowning thoughtfully.
"Why do the girls dislike Rhoda?"
"There doesn't seem to be any special reason for it."
"Her poverty, perhaps?"
"I don't think it's that," Penny defended the club members. "Rhoda is so
quiet that the girls have never become acquainted with her."
"Then I suggest that they make an immediate effort," Miss Nelson ended
the interview. "The Palette Club has no right to an existence unless it
welcomes members with real art talent."
A group of girls awaited Penny when she reached the locker room. They
eagerly plied her with questions as to why she had been detained by the
teacher.
"I'll tell you later," Penny promised.
At the other side of the room Rhoda Wiegand was removing a coat from her
locker. A sober-faced girl of seventeen, she wore a faded blue dress
which seemed to draw all color from her thin face. Knowing that she was
not well liked, she seldom spoke or forced herself upon the other
students.
"Rhoda," began Penny, paying no heed to the amazed glances of her
friends, "the Palette Club is having a meeting this afternoon at the old
Marborough place. Why not come with us?"
The older girl turned quickly, a smile of surprise and pleasure
brightening her face.
"Oh, I should love to go, only I don't think--" Hesitating, she gazed at
the other girls who were eyeing her in a none too friendly way.
Penny gave Louise Sidell a little pinch. Her chum, understanding what was
expected, said with as much warmth as she could: "Yes, do come, Rhoda. We
plan to sketch the old wishing well."
"I have enough drawing material for both of us," Penny added
persuasively.
"If you really want me, of course I'll come!" Rhoda accepted, her voice
rather tremulous. "I've heard about the Marborough homestead, and always
longed to see it."
A group of subdued girls gathered their belongings from the lockers,
preparing to leave the school grounds. No one understood why Penny had
invited Rhoda to attend the outing, and the act had not been a popular
one.
Boarding a bus, the twelve members of the Palette Club soon reached the
end of the line, and from there walked a quarter of a mile into the
country. Penny and Louise chose Rhoda as their companion, trying to make
her feel at ease. Conversation became rather difficult and they were
relieved when, at length, they approached their destination.
"There's the old house," Penny said, indicating a steep pitched roof-top
which could be seen rising above a jungle of tall oaks. "It's been
unoccupied for at least ten years now."
The Marborough homestead, a handsome dwelling of pre-Civil war day, long
had been Riverview's most outstanding architectural curiosity. Only in a
vague way was Penny familiar with its history. The property had been
named Rose Acres and its mistress, Mrs. James Marborough, had moved from
the city many years before, allowing the house to stand unpainted and
untended. Once so beautifully kept, the grounds had become a tangle of
weeds and untrimmed bushes. Even so, the old plantation home with its six
graceful pillars, retained dignity and beauty.
Entering the yard through a space where a gate once had stood, the girls
gazed about with interest. Framed in a clump of giant azaleas was the
statue of an Indian girl with stone feathers in her hair. Beyond, they
caught a glimpse of the river which curved around the south side of the
grounds in a wide bend.
"Where is the old wishing well?" Rhoda inquired. "I've heard so much
about it."
"We're coming to it now," Penny replied, leading the way down an avenue
of oak trees.
Not far from the house stood the old-fashioned covered well. Its base was
of cut stone and on a bronze plate had been engraved the words: "_If you
do a good deed, you can make a wish and it will come true_."
"Some people around Riverview really believe that this old well has the
power to make wishes come true," Louise Sidell remarked, peering at her
reflection mirrored in the water far below. "In the past years when Mrs.
Marborough lived here, it had quite a reputation."
"The water is still good if you don't mind a few germs," Penny added with
a laugh. "I see that someone has replaced the bucket. There was none here
the last time I came."
By means of the long sweep, she lowered the receptacle and brought it up
filled with water.
"Make a wish, Penny," one of her friends urged. "Maybe it will come
true."
"Everyone knows what she'll ask for!" teased Louise. "Her desires are
always the same--a bigger weekly allowance!"
Penny smiled as she drew a dipper of water from the wooden bucket.
"How about the good deed?" she inquired lightly. "I've done nothing
worthy of a demand upon this old well."
"You helped your father round up a group of Night Riders," Louise
reminded her. "Remember the big story you wrote for the _Riverview Star_
which was titled: _The Clock Strikes Thirteen_?"
"I did prevent Clyde Blake from tricking a number of people in this
community," Penny acknowledged. "Perhaps that entitles me to a wish."
Drinking deeply from the dipper, she poured the last drops into the well,
watching as they made concentric circles in the still water below.
"Old well, do your stuff and grant my wish," she entreated. "Please get
busy right away."
"But what is your wish, Penny?" demanded one of the girls. "You have to
tell."
"All right, I wish that this old Marborough property could be restored to
its former beauty."
"You believe in making hard ones," Louise laughed. "I doubt that this
place ever will be fixed up again--at least not until after the property
changes hands."
"It's Rhoda's turn now," Penny said, offering the dipper to her.
The older girl stepped to the edge of the well, her face very serious.
"Do you think wishes really do come true?" she asked thoughtfully.
"Oh, it's only for the fun of it," Louise responded. "But they do say
that in the old days, this well had remarkable powers. At least many
persons came here to make wishes which they claimed came true. I couldn't
believe in it myself."
Rhoda stood for a moment gazing down into the well. Drinking from the
dipper, she allowed a few drops to spatter into the deep cavern below.
"I wish--" she said in a low, tense voice--"I wish that some day Pop and
Mrs. Breen will be repaid for looking after my brother and me. I wish
that they may have more money for food and clothes and a few really nice
things."
An awkward, embarrassing silence descended upon the group of girls.
Everyone knew that Rhoda and her younger brother, Ted, lived at a trailer
camp with a family unrelated to them, but not even Penny had troubled to
learn additional details. From Rhoda's wish it was apparent to all that
the Breens were in dire poverty.
"It's your turn now, Louise," Penny said quickly.
Louise accepted the dipper. Without drinking, she tossed all the water
into the well, saying gaily:
"I wish Penny would grow long ears and a tail! It would serve her right
for solving so many mystery cases!"
The other girls made equally frivolous wishes. Thereafter, they abandoned
fun for serious work, getting out their sketching materials. Penny and
Louise began to draw the old well, but Rhoda, intrigued by the classical
beauty of the house, decided to try to transfer it to paper.
"You do nice work," Penny praised, gazing over the older girl's shoulder.
"The rest of us can't begin to match it."
"You may have the sketch when I finish," Rhoda offered.
As she spoke, the girls were startled to hear a commotion in the bushes
behind the house. Chickens began to cackle, and to their ears came the
sound of pounding feet.
Suddenly, from the direction of the river, a young man darted into view,
pursued by an elderly man who was less agile. To the girls, it was
immediately apparent why the youth was being chased, for he carried a fat
hen beneath his arm, and ran with hat pulled low over his face.
"A chicken thief!" Penny exclaimed, springing to her feet. "Come on,
girls, let's head him off!"
CHAPTER
2
_BY THE COVERED WELL_
Seeing the group of girls by the wishing well, the youth swerved, and
fled in the opposite direction. Darting into the woods, he ran so swiftly
that Penny realized pursuit would be futile.
"Who was he?" she questioned the others. "Did any of you recognize him?"
"I'm sure I've seen him somewhere," Louise Sidell declared. "Were you
able to see his face, Rhoda?"
The older girl did not answer, for at that moment the man who had pursued
the boy ran into the yard. Breathing hard, he paused near the well.
"Did you see a boy come through here?" he asked abruptly. "The rascal
stole one of my good layin' hens."
"We saw him," Penny answered, "but I'm sure you'll never overtake him
now. He ran into the woods."
"Reckon you're right," the man muttered, seating himself on the stone rim
of the wishing well. "I'm tuckered." Taking out a red-bandana
handkerchief, he wiped perspiration from his forehead.
Penny thought that she recognized the man as a stonecutter who lived in a
shack at the river's edge. He was a short, muscular individual, strong
despite his age, with hands roughened by hard labor. His face had been
browned by wind and sun; gray eyes squinted as if ever viewing the world
with suspicion and hate.
"Aren't you Truman Crocker?" Penny inquired curiously.
"That's my tag," the stonecutter answered, drawing himself a drink of
water from the well. "What are you young 'uns doing here?"
"Oh, our club came to sketch," Penny returned. "You live close by, don't
you?"
"Down yonder," the man replied, draining the dipper in a thirsty gulp. "I
been haulin' stone all day. It's a hard way to make a living, let me tell
you. Then I come home to find that young rascal making off with my
chickens!"
"Do you know who he was?" asked Louise.
"No, but this ain't the first time he's paid me a visit. Last week he
stole one of my best Rhode Island Reds. I'm plumb disgusted."
Rhoda abruptly arose from the grass, gathering together her sketching
materials. As if to put an end to the conversation, she remarked:
"It will soon be dark, girls. I think I should start home."
"We'll all be leaving in a few minutes," Penny replied. "Let's look
around a bit more though, before we go."
"You won't see nothin' worth lookin' at around here," the stonecutter
said contemptuously. "This old house ain't much any more. There's good
lumber in it though, and the foundation has some first class stone."
"You speak as if you had designs on it," Penny laughed. "It would be a
shame to tear down a beautiful old house such as this."
"What's it good for?" the man shrugged. "There ain't no one lived here in
ten or twelve years. Not since the old lady went off."
"Did you know Mrs. Marborough?"
"Oh, we said howdy to each other when we'd meet, but that was the size of
it. The old lady didn't like me none and I thought the same of her. She
never wanted my chickens runnin' over her yard. Ain't it a pity she can't
see 'em now?"
With a throaty sound, half chuckle, half sneer, the man arose and walked
with the girls around the house.
"If you want to look inside, there's a shutter off on the east livin'
room window," he informed. "Everything's just like the old lady left it."
"You don't mean the furniture is still in the house!" Rhoda exclaimed
incredulously.
"There ain't nothing been changed. I never could figure why someone
didn't come in an' haul off her stuff, but it's stood all these years."
Their curiosity aroused, the girls hastened to the window that Truman
Crocker had mentioned. Flattening her face against the dirty pane, Penny
peered inside.
"He's right!" she announced. "The furniture is still covered by sheets!
Why, that's funny."
"What is?" inquired Louise impatiently.
"There's a lady's hat lying on the table!"
"It must be quite out of style by this time," Louise laughed.
"A _new_ hat," Penny said with emphasis. "And a purse lying beside it!"
At the other side of the house, an outside door squeaked. Turning around,
the group of girls stared almost as if they were gazing at a ghost. An
old lady in a long blue silk dress with lace collar and cuffs, stepped
out onto the veranda. She gazed beyond the girls toward Truman Crocker
who leaned against a tree. Seeing the woman, he straightened to alert
attention.
"If it ain't Priscilla Marborough!" he exclaimed. "You've come back!"
"I certainly have returned," the old lady retorted with no friendliness
in her voice. "High time someone looked after this place! While I've been
away, you seemingly have used my garden as a chicken run!"
"How did I know you was ever coming back?" Crocker demanded. "Anyhow, the
place has gone to wrack and ruin. A few chickens more nor less shouldn't
make no difference."
"Perhaps not to you, Truman Crocker," Mrs. Marborough returned with
biting emphasis. "You know I am home now, so I warn you--keep your live
stock out of my garden!"
Penny and her friends shared the old stonecutter's chagrin, for they too
were trespassers. Waiting until the woman had finished lecturing Crocker,
they offered an apology for the intrusion.
"We're very sorry," Penny said, speaking for the others. "Of course we
never dreamed that the house was occupied or we wouldn't have peeped
through the window. We came because we wanted to sketch the old wishing
well and your lovely home."
Mrs. Marborough came down the steps toward the girls.
"I quite understand," she said in a far milder tone than she had used in
speaking to the stonecutter. "You may look around as much as you wish.
But first, tell me your names."
One by one they gave them, answering other questions which the old lady
asked. She kept them so busy that they had no opportunity to interpose
any of their own. But at length Penny managed to inquire:
"Mrs. Marborough, are you planning to open up your home again? Everyone
would be so happy if only you should decide to live here!"
"Happy?" the old lady repeated, her eyes twinkling. "Well, maybe some
people would be, and others wouldn't."
"Rose Acres could be made into one of the nicest places in Riverview,"
declared Louise.
"That would take considerable money," replied Mrs. Marborough. "I've not
made any plans yet." Abruptly she turned to face Truman Crocker who was
staring at her. "Must you stand there gawking?" she asked with asperity.
"Get along to your own land, and mind, don't come here again. I'll not
have trespassers."
"You ain't changed a bit, Mrs. Marborough, not a particle," the
stonecutter muttered as he slowly moved off.
Truman Crocker's dismissal had been so curt that Penny and her friends
likewise started to leave the grounds.
"You needn't go unless you want to," Mrs. Marborough said, her tone
softening again. "I never could endure that no-good loafer, Truman
Crocker! All the stepping stones are gone from my garden, and I have an
idea what became of them!"
The group of girls hesitated, scarcely knowing what to do or say. As the
silence became noticeable, Penny tried to make conversation by remarking
that she and her friends had been especially interested in the old
wishing well.
"Is it true that wishes made there have come true?" Rhoda Wiegand
interposed eagerly.
"Yes and no," the old lady smiled. "Hundreds of wishes have been made at
the well over the years. A surprising number of the worthwhile ones have
been granted, so folks say. Tell me, did you say your name is Rhoda?"
"Why, yes," the girl responded, surprised that the old lady had
remembered. "Rhoda Wiegand."
"Wiegand--odd, I don't recall the name. Have your parents lived many
years in Riverview?"
"My mother and father are dead, Mrs. Marborough. My brother and I haven't
any living relatives. Mr. and Mrs. Breen took us in so we wouldn't have
to go to an orphans' home. They have three children of their own, and I'm
afraid we're quite a burden."
"Where do the Breens live, my child?"
"We have a trailer at the Dorset Tourist Camp."
"I've always thought I should enjoy living that way," Mrs. Marborough
declared. "Big houses are entirely too much work. If I decide to clean up
this place, it will take me weeks."
"Can't we all help you?" suggested Louise impulsively. More than anything
else she longed to see the interior of the quaint old house.
"Thank you, my dear, but I shall require no assistance," Mrs. Marborough
replied somewhat stiffly. Obviously dismissing the girls, she added: "Do
come again whenever you like."
During the bus ride to Riverview, the members of the Palette exchanged
comments, speculating upon why the old lady had returned to the city
after such a lengthy absence. One by one they alighted at various street
corners until only Rhoda, Penny, and Louise remained.
"Rhoda, you'll have a long ride to the opposite side of the city," Penny
remarked as she and Louise prepared to leave the bus. "Why not get off
here and let me drive you home in my car? It won't take long to get it
from the garage."
"Oh, that would be too much trouble," Rhoda protested.
"I want to do it," Penny insisted. Taking the girl by the elbow, she
steered her to the bus exit. To Louise she added: "Why not come along
with us?"
"Perhaps I will, if you'll drive your good car--not Leaping Lena."
Penny was the proud possessor of two automobiles, one a handsome maroon
sedan, the other a dilapidated, ancient "flivver" which had an unpleasant
habit of running only when fancy dictated. How she had obtained two cars
was a story in itself--in fact, several of them. The maroon model,
however, had been the gift of Penny's devoted father, Anthony Parker,
publisher of Riverview's leading daily newspaper, _The Star_. He had
presented the car to her in gratitude because she had achieved an
exclusive story for his paper, gaining astounding evidence by probing
behind a certain mysterious _Green Door_.
Delighted with the gift, Penny promptly sold Leaping Lena only to become
so lonesome for her old friend that she had bought it back from a
second-hand dealer. In towing the car home she was involved in an
accident, and there followed a chain of amazing events which ultimately
brought the solution of a mystery case known as _Clue of the Silken
Ladder_. Leaping Lena and trouble always went together, according to
Louise, but Penny felt that every one of her adventures had been worth
while.
"I don't mind taking the maroon car," she replied to her chum. "In fact,
Lena hasn't been running so well lately. I think she has pneumonia of the
carburetor."
"Or maybe it's just old age sneaking up on her!" Louise added with a
teasing laugh.
Reaching the Parker home, Penny ran inside to tell Mrs. Weems, the
housekeeper, that she was taking Rhoda to the trailer camp. Returning a
moment later, she backed the maroon car from the garage with dazzling
skill and further exhibited her prowess as a driver.
"Penny always handles an automobile as if she were enroute to a
three-alarm fire!" Louise assured Rhoda. "A reporter at the _Star_ taught
her how to drive."
Presently, the car arrived at the Dorset Tourist Camp, rolling through an
archway entrance into a tree-shaded area.
"Our trailer is parked over at the north side," Rhoda said, pointing to a
vehicle with faded brown paint.
Penny stopped the car beneath a large maple tree. Immediately three small
children who had been playing close by, rushed up to greet Rhoda. Their
hands and faces were very dirty, frocks unpressed and torn, and their
hair appeared never to have made contact with comb or brush.
"Are these the Breen youngsters?" inquired Louise.
"Yes," Rhoda answered, offering no apology for the way the children
looked. "This is Betty, who is seven. Bobby is five, and Jean is our
baby."
Penny and Louise had no intention of remaining at the camp, but before
they could drive away, Mrs. Breen stepped from the trailer. She came at
once to the car, and Rhoda introduced her.
"I've always told Rhoda to bring her friends out here, but she never
would do it," the woman declared heartily. "Come inside and see our
trailer."
"We really should be going," Penny demurred. "I told our housekeeper I'd
be right back."
"It will only take a minute," Mrs. Breen urged. "I want you to meet my
husband--and there's Ted."
The woman had caught a glimpse of a tall young man as he moved hastily
around the back side of the trailer.
"Oh, Ted!" she called shrilly. "Come here and meet Rhoda's friends!"
"Don't bother about it, Mrs. Breen," Rhoda said in embarrassment.
"Please."
"Nonsense!" the woman replied, and called again. "Ted! Come here, I say!"
With obvious reluctance, the young man approached the automobile. He was
tall and slim with many of Rhoda's facial features. Penny felt certain
that she had seen him before, yet for a minute she could not think where.
"How are you?" the young man responded briefly as he was presented to the
two girls.
"Ted found a little work to do today," Mrs. Breen resumed proudly. "Just
a few minutes ago he brought home a nice plump chicken. We're having it
for dinner!"
Ted gazed over the woman's head, straight at his sister. Seeing the look
which passed between them, Penny suddenly knew where she had seen the
young man. Mrs. Breen's remark had given her the required clue.
Unquestionably, Ted Wiegand was the one who had stolen the chicken from
the old stonecutter!
CHAPTER
3
_CHICKEN DINNER_
The discovery that Rhoda's brother had stolen food was disconcerting to
Penny. Saying good-bye to Mrs. Breen, she prepared to drive away from the
trailer camp.
"Oh, you can't go so soon," the woman protested. "You must stay for
dinner. We're having chicken and there's plenty for everybody!"
"Really we can't remain," Penny declined. "Louise and I both are expected
at home."
"You're just afraid you'll put me to a little trouble," Mrs. Breen
laughed, swinging open the car door and tugging at Penny's hand. "You
have to stay."
Taking a cue from their mother, the three young children surrounded the
girls, fairly forcing them toward the trailer. Ted immediately started in
the opposite direction.
"You come back here, Ted Wiegand!" Mrs. Breen called in a loud voice.
"I don't want any dinner, Mom."
"I know better," Mrs. Breen contradicted cheerfully. "You're just bashful
because we're having two pretty girls visit us. You stay and eat your
victuals like you always do, or I'll box your ears."
"Okay," Ted agreed, glancing at Rhoda again. "It's no use arguing with
you, Mom."
Neither Penny nor Louise wished to remain for dinner, yet they knew of no
way to avoid it without offending Mrs. Breen. Briskly the woman herded
them inside the trailer.
"It's nice, isn't it?" she asked proudly. "We have a little refrigerator
and a good stove and a sink. We're a bit crowded, but that only makes it
more jolly."
A man in shirt sleeves lay on one of the day beds, reading a newspaper.
"Meet my husband," Mrs. Breen said as an afterthought. "Get up, Pop!" she
ordered. "Don't you have any manners?"
The man amiably swung his feet to the floor, grinning at Penny and
Louise.
"I ain't been very well lately," he said, as if feeling that the
situation required an explanation. "The Doc tells me to take it easy."
"That was twenty years ago," Mrs. Breen contributed, an edge to her
voice. "Pop's been resting ever since. But we get along."
Rhoda and Ted, who had followed the others into the trailer, were acutely
embarrassed by the remark. Penny hastily changed the subject to a less
personal one by pretending to show an interest in a book which lay on the
table.
"Oh, that belongs to Rhoda," Mrs. Breen responded carelessly. "She
brought it from the library. Ted and Rhoda always have their noses in a
book. They're my adopted children, you know."
"Mr. and Mrs. Breen have been very kind to us," Rhoda said quietly.
"Stuff and nonsense!" Mrs. Breen retorted. "You've more than earned your
keep. Well, if you'll excuse me now, I'll dish up dinner."
Penny and Louise wondered how so many persons could be fed in such a
small space, especially as the dinette table accommodated only six. Mrs.
Breen solved the problem by giving each of the three small children a
plate of food and sending them outdoors.
"Now we can eat in peace," she remarked, squeezing her ample body beneath
the edge of the low, anchored table. "It's a little crowded, but we can
all get in here."
"I'll take my plate outside," Ted offered.
"No, you stay right here," Mrs. Breen reproved. "I never did see such a
bashful boy! Isn't he the limit?"
Having arranged everything to her satisfaction, she began to dish up
generous helpings of chicken and potato. The food had an appetizing odor
and looked well cooked, but save for a pot of tea, there was nothing
else.
"We're having quite a banquet tonight," Pop Breen remarked
appreciatively. "I'll take a drumstick, Ma, if there ain't no one else
wantin' it."
"You'll take what you get," his wife retorted, slapping the drumstick
onto Penny's plate.
Louise and Penny made a pretense of eating, finding the food much better
than they had expected. Neither Ted nor Rhoda seemed hungry, and Mrs.
Breen immediately called attention to their lack of appetite.
"Why, Ted! What's the matter you're not eating? Are you sick?"
The boy shook his head and got to his feet.
"I'm not hungry, Mom," he mumbled. "Excuse me, please. I have a date with
a fellow at Riverview, and I have to hurry."
Before Mrs. Breen could detain him, he left the trailer.
"I can't understand that boy any more," she observed with a sad shake of
her head. "He hasn't been himself lately."
The younger members of the Breen family quite made up for Ted and Rhoda's
lack of appetite. Time and again they came to the table to have their
plates refilled, until all that remained of the chicken was a few bones.
Penny and Louise felt quite certain that Rhoda realized what her brother
had done and was deeply humiliated by his thievery. To spare the girl
further embarrassment, they declared that they must leave. However, as
they were presenting their excuses, there was a loud rap on the door of
the trailer. Peering from the curtained window, Mrs. Breen immediately
lost her jovial manner.
"_He's_ here again," she whispered. "What are we going to tell him, Pop?"
"Just give him the old stall," her husband suggested, undisturbed.
Reluctantly, Mrs. Breen went to open the door. Without waiting for an
invitation, a well-dressed man of middle age entered the trailer. Penny
immediately recognized him as Jay Franklin, who owned the Dorset Tourist
Camp. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Breen," he began, his manner falsely
cheerful. "I suppose you know why I am here again?"
"About the rent?"
"Precisely." Mr. Franklin consulted a small booklet. "You are behind one
full month in your payments, as of course you must be aware. The amount
totals eight dollars."
"Pop, pay the gentleman," Mrs. Breen commanded.
"Well, now, I ain't got that much on me," her husband rejoined,
responding to his cue. "If you'll drop around in a day or two, Mr.
Franklin--"
"You've been stalling for weeks! Either pay or your electric power will
be cut off!"
"Oh, Mr. Franklin," pleaded Mrs. Breen, "you can't do that to us. Why,
with our refrigerator on the blink, the milk will sour. And I got three
little children."
The man regarded her with cold dislike.
"I am not interested in your personal problems, Mrs. Breen," he said,
delivering his ultimatum. "Either settle your bill in full by tomorrow
morning, or move on!"
CHAPTER
4
_A RECORD ON ROCK_
"What'll we do?" Mrs. Breen murmured, gazing despairingly at her husband.
"Where will we get the money?"
Penny stepped forward into Jay Franklin's range of vision. Observing her
for the first time, he politely doffed his hat, a courtesy he had not
bestowed upon the Breens.
"Mr. Franklin, have you a cheque book?" she inquired.
"Yes, I have," he responded with alacrity.
"Then I'll write a cheque for the eight dollars if that will be
satisfactory," Penny offered. "The Breens are friends of mine."
"That will settle the bill in full, Miss Parker."
Whipping a fountain pen from his pocket, he offered it to her.
"Penny, we can't allow you to assume our debts," Rhoda protested. "Please
don't--"
"Now Rhoda, it's only a loan to tide us over for a few days," Mrs. Breen
interposed. "Ted will get a job and then we'll be able to pay it back."
Penny wrote out the cheque, and cutting short the profuse thanks of the
Breens, declared that she and Louise must return home at once.
"Driving into Riverview?" Mr. Franklin inquired. "My car is in the
garage, and I'll appreciate a lift to town."
"We'll be glad to take you, Mr. Franklin," Penny responded, but without
enthusiasm.
Enroute to Riverview he endeavored to make himself an agreeable
conversationalist.
"So the Breens are friends of yours?" he remarked casually.
"Well, not exactly," Penny corrected. "I met Rhoda at school and visited
her for the first time today. I couldn't help feeling sorry for the
family."
"They're a no-good lot. The old man never works, and the boy either can't
or won't get a job."
"Do you have many such families, Mr. Franklin?"
"Oh, now and then. But I weed them out as fast as I can. One can't be
soft and manage a tourist camp, you know."
Penny smiled, thinking that no person ever would accuse Mr. Franklin of
being "soft." He had the reputation of ruthless devotion to his own
interests. Changing the subject, she remarked that Mrs. Marborough had
returned to the city to take up residence at Rose Acres.
"Is that so?" Mr. Franklin inquired, showing interest in the information.
"Will she recondition the house?"
Penny replied that she had no knowledge of the widow's future plans.
"No doubt Mrs. Marborough has returned to sell the property," Mr.
Franklin said musingly. "I should like to buy that place if it goes for a
fair price. I could make money by remodeling it into a tourist home."
"It would be a pity to turn such a lovely place into a roadside hotel,"
Louise remarked disapprovingly. "Penny and I hope that someday it will be
restored as it was in the old days."
"There would be no profit in it as a residence," Mr. Franklin returned.
"The house is located on a main road though, and as a tourist hotel,
should pay."
Conversation languished, and a few minutes later, Penny dropped the man
at his own home. Although she refrained from speaking of it to Louise,
she neither liked nor trusted Jay Franklin. While it had been his right
to eject the Breens from the tourist camp for non-payment of rent, she
felt that he could have afforded to be more generous. She did not regret
the impulse which had caused her to settle the debt even though it meant
that she must deprive herself of a few luxuries.
After leaving Louise at the Sidell house, Penny drove on home. Entering
the living room, she greeted her father who had arrived from the
newspaper office only a moment before. A late edition of the Star lay on
the table, and she glanced carelessly at it, inquiring: "What's new,
Dad?"
"Nothing worthy of mention," Mr. Parker returned.
Sinking down on the davenport, Penny scanned the front page. Immediately
her attention was drawn to a brief item which appeared in an
inconspicuous bottom corner.
"Here's something!" she exclaimed. "Why, how strange!"
"What is, Penny?"
"It says in this story that a big rock has been found on the farm of Carl
Gleason! The stone bears writing thought to be of Elizabethan origin!"
"Let me see that paper," Mr. Parker said, striding across the room. "I
didn't know any such story was used."
With obvious displeasure, the editor read the brief item which Penny
indicated. Only twenty lines in length, it stated that a stone bearing
both Elizabethan and Indian carving had been found on the nearby farm.
"I don't know how this item got past City Editor DeWitt," Mr. Parker
declared. "It has all the earmarks of a hoax! You didn't by chance write
it, Penny?"
"I certainly did not."
"It reads a little like a Jerry Livingston story," Mr. Parker said,
glancing at the item a second time.
Going to a telephone he called first the _Star_ office and then the home
of the reporter, Jerry Livingston. After talking with the young man
several minutes, he finally hung up the receiver.
"What did he say?" Penny asked curiously.
"Jerry wrote the story, and says it came from a reliable source. He's
coming over here to talk to me about it."
Within ten minutes the reporter arrived at the Parker home. Penny
loitered in the living room to hear the conversation. Jerry long had been
a particular friend of hers and she hoped that her father would not
reprimand him for any mistake he might have made.
"Have a chair," Mr. Parker greeted the young man cordially. "Now tell me
where you got hold of that story."
"Straight from the farmer, Carl Gleason," Jerry responded. "The stone was
dug up on his farm early this morning."
"Did you see it yourself?"
"Not yet. It was hauled to the Museum of Natural Science. Thought I'd
drop around there on my way home and look it over."
"I wish you would," requested the editor. "While the stone may be an
authentic one, I have a deep suspicion someone is trying to pull a fast
trick."
"I'm sorry if I've made a boner, Chief."
"Oh, I'm not blaming you," Mr. Parker assured him. "If the story is a
fake, it was up to DeWitt to question it at the desk. Better look at the
rock though, before you write any more about it."
As Jerry arose to leave, Penny jumped up from her own chair.
"I'd like to see that stone too!" she declared. "Jerry, do you mind if I
go along with you?"
"Glad to have you," he said heartily.
Before Penny could get her hat and coat, Mrs. Maud Weems, the Parker
housekeeper, appeared in the doorway to announce dinner. She was a stout,
pleasant woman of middle-age and had looked after Penny since Mrs.
Parker's death many years before.
"Penny, where are you going now?" she asked, her voice disclosing mild
disapproval.
"Only over to the museum."
"You've not had your dinner."
"Oh, yes, I have," Penny laughed. "I dined on chicken at the Dorset
Tourist Camp. I'll be home in an hour or so."
Jerking coat and hat from the hall closet, she fled from the house before
Mrs. Weems could offer further objections. Jerry made a more ceremonious
departure, joining Penny on the front porch.
At the curb stood the reporter's mud-splattered coupe. The interior was
only slightly less dirty, and before getting in, Penny industriously
brushed off the seat.
"Tell me all about this interesting stone which was found at the Gleason
farm," she commanded, as the car started down the street.
"Nothing to tell except what was in the paper," Jerry shrugged. "The rock
has some writing on it, supposedly similar to early Elizabethan script.
And there are a few Indian characters."
"How could such a stone turn up at Riverview?"
"Carl Gleason found it while he was plowing a field. Apparently, it had
been in the ground for many years."
"I should think so if it bears Elizabethan writing!" Penny laughed. "Why,
that would date it practically in Shakespeare's time!"
"It's written in the style used by the earliest settlers of this
country," Jerry said defensively. "You know, before we had radios and
automobiles and things, this land of ours was occupied by Indians."
"Do tell!" Penny teased.
"The natives camped all along the river, and there may have been an early
English settlement here. So it's perfectly possible that such a stone
could be found."
"Anyway, I am curious to see it," Penny replied.
The car drew up before a large stone building with Doric columns.
Climbing a long series of steps to the front door, Penny and Jerry
entered the museum through a turnstile.
"I want to see the curator, Mr. Kaleman," the reporter remarked, turning
toward a private office near the entrance. "I'll be with you in a
minute."
While waiting, Penny wandered slowly about, inspecting the various
display cases. She was admiring the huge skeleton of a dinosaur when
Jerry returned, followed by an elderly man who wore spectacles. The
reporter introduced the curator, who began to talk enthusiastically of
the ancient stone which had been delivered to the museum that afternoon.
"I shall be very glad to show it to you," he said, leading the way down a
long corridor. "For the present, pending investigation, we have it stored
in the basement."
"What's the verdict?" Jerry inquired. "Do museum authorities consider the
writing authentic?"
"I should not wish to be quoted," Mr. Kaleman prefaced his little speech.
"However, an initial inspection has led us to believe that the stone
bears ancient writings. You understand that it will take exhaustive study
before the museum would venture to state this as a fact."
"The stone couldn't have been faked?" Penny asked thoughtfully.
"Always that is a possibility," Mr. Kaleman acknowledged as he unlocked
the door of a basement room. "However, the stone has weathered evenly, it
appears to have been buried many years, and there are other signs which
point to the authenticity of the writing."
The curator switched on an electric light which disclosed a room
cluttered with miscellaneous objects. There were empty mummy cases, boxes
of excelsior, and various stuffed animals. At the rear of the room was a
large rust colored stone which might have weighed a quarter of a ton.
"Here it is," Mr. Kaleman declared, giving the rock an affectionate pat.
"Notice the uniform coloring throughout. And note the lettering chiseled
on the surface. You will see that the grooves do not differ appreciably
from the remainder of the stone as would be the case if the lettering
were of recent date. It is my belief--don't quote me, of course--that
this writing may open a new and fascinating page of history."
Penny bent to inspect the crude writing. "'Here laeth Ananias'" she read
slowly aloud. "Why, that might be a joke! Wasn't Ananias a dreadful
prevaricator?"
"Ananias was a common name in the early days," Mr. Kaleman said,
displeased by the remark. "Now on the underside of this stone which you
cannot see, there appears part of a quaint message which begins: 'Soon
after you goe for Englande we came hither.'"
"What does it mean?" questioned Jerry.
"This is only my theory, you understand. I believe the message may have
been written by an early settler and left for someone who had gone to
England but expected to return. The writing breaks off, suggesting that
it may have been continued on another stone."
"In that case, similar rocks may be found near here," Jerry said
thoughtfully.
"It is an interesting possibility. On the underside, this stone also
contains a number of Indian characters, no doubt added at a later date.
So far we have not been able to decipher them."
"Just why does the stone have historical value?" Penny interposed.
"Because there never was any proof that English colonists settled in this
part of the state," Mr. Kaleman explained. "If we could prove such were
the case, our contribution to history would be a vital one."
Penny and Jerry asked many other questions, and finally left the museum.
Both had been impressed not only with the huge stone but by the curator's
sincere manner.
"Mr. Kaleman certainly believes the writing is genuine," Penny declared
thoughtfully. "All the same, anyone knows a carved rock can be made to
look very ancient. And that name Ananias makes me wonder."
"The Chief may be right about it being a fake," Jerry returned. "But if
it is, who planted the stone on Gleason's farm? And who would go to so
much unnecessary work just to play a joke?"
Frowning, the reporter started to cross the street just as an automobile
bearing Texas license plates went past, close to the curb. As Jerry
leaped backwards to safety, the automobile halted. Two men occupied the
front seat, and the driver, a well-dressed man of fifty, leaned from the
window.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, addressing Jerry, "we're trying to locate a
boy named Ted Wiegand. He and his sister may be living with a family by
the name of Breen. Could you tell me how to find them?"
"Sorry, but I can't," Jerry answered. "I never heard either of the
names."
"Why, I know both Ted and Rhoda Wiegand," Penny interposed quickly.
"They're living at the Dorset Tourist Camp."
"How do we get there?" the driver of the Texas car inquired.
Jerry provided the requested information. Thanking him, the stranger and
his companion drove on down the street.
"I wonder who they can be?" Penny speculated, staring after the car. "And
why did they come all the way from Texas to see Rhoda and Ted?"
"Friends of yours?" Jerry asked carelessly.
"I like Rhoda very much. Ted seems to be a rather questionable character.
I wonder--"
"You wonder what?" the reporter prompted, helping Penny into the parked
automobile.
"It just came to me, Jerry!" she answered gravely. "Those men may be
officers from Texas sent here to arrest Ted for something he's done! I
never meant to set them on his trail, but I may be responsible for his
arrest!"
CHAPTER
5
_STRANGERS FROM TEXAS_
Jerry smiled broadly as he edged the car from its parking space by the
curb.
"You certainly have a vivid imagination, Penny," he accused. "Those two
men didn't look like plain-clothes men to me. Anyway, if Ted Wiegand had
committed an illegal act, wouldn't it be your duty to turn him over to
the authorities?"
"I suppose so," Penny admitted unwillingly. "Ted stole one of Truman
Crocker's chickens today. It was a dreadful thing to do, but in a way you
couldn't blame him too much. I'm sure the Breens needed food."
"Stealing is stealing. I don't know the lad, but if a fellow is crooked
in small things, he's usually dishonest otherwise as well. Speaking of
Truman Crocker, he was the man who hauled the big rock to the museum."
"Was he?" Penny inquired, not particularly interested in the information.
"I understand he does a great deal of rock hauling around Riverview. A
queer fellow."
Becoming absorbed in her own thoughts, Penny had little to say until the
car drew up in front of the Parker home.
"Won't you come in?" she invited Jerry as she alighted.
"Can't tonight," he declined regretfully. "I have a date at a bowling
alley."
Mr. Parker had been called downtown to attend a meeting, Penny discovered
upon entering the house. Unable to tell him of her trip to the museum,
she tried to interest Mrs. Weems in the story. However, the housekeeper,
who was eager to start for a moving-picture theatre, soon cut her short.
"Excuse me, Penny, but I really must be leaving or I'll be late," she
apologized, putting on her hat.
"I thought you were interested in mystery, Mrs. Weems."
"Mystery, yes," smiled the housekeeper. "To tell you the truth, though, I
can't become very excited over an old stone, no matter what's written on
it."
After Mrs. Weems had gone, Penny was left alone in the big house. She sat
down to read a book but soon laid it aside. To pass the time, she thought
she would make a batch of fudge. But, no sooner had she mixed the sugar
and chocolate together than it seemed like a useless occupation, so she
set aside the pan for Mrs. Weems to finish upon her return from the
movie.
"I know what I'll do!" she thought suddenly. "I wonder why I didn't think
of it sooner?"
Hastening to the telephone she called her chum, Louise, asking her to
come over at once.
"What's up?" the other inquired curiously.
"We're going to carry out a philanthropic enterprise, Lou! I'll tell you
about it when you get here!"
"One of these days you'll choke on some of those big words," Louise
grumbled. "All right, I'll come."
Fifteen minutes later she arrived at the Parker home to find Penny,
garbed in an apron, working industriously in the kitchen.
"Say, what is this?" Louise demanded suspiciously. "If you tricked me
into helping you with the dishes, I'm going straight home!"
"Oh, relax," Penny laughed. "The dishes were done hours ago. We're going
to help out the Old Wishing Well."
"I wish you would explain what you mean."
"It's this way, Lou. The Breens are as poor as church mice, and they need
food. At the Marborough place this afternoon Rhoda made a wish--that her
family would have more to eat. Well, it's up to us to make that wish come
true."
"You're preparing a basket of food to take out to the camp?"
"That's the general idea. We can leave it on the doorstep of the trailer
and slip away without revealing our identity."
"Why, your idea is a splendid one!" Louise suddenly approved. "Of course
Mrs. Weems said it would be all right to fix the basket of food?"
"Oh, she won't mind. I know she would want me to do it if she were here."
Swinging open the porcelain door of the ice box, Penny peered into the
illuminated shelves. The refrigerator was unusually well stocked, for
Mrs. Weems had baked that day in anticipation of week-end appetites.
Without hesitation, Penny handed out a meat loaf, a plum pudding, bunches
of radishes, scrubbed carrots, celery, and a dozen fresh eggs.