Clue of the Silken Ladder Part 12

"Don't bother to take me home," Penny insisted. "Dash straight to the office and write your story. The other papers won't have a word about the robbery until the police report is made."

"I don't like to abandon you."

"Don't be silly, Jerry. It's only a few blocks farther."

Thus urged, the reporter bade Penny good-bye. As she hastened on alone, it began to rain and the air turned colder. To save her clothing, she ran the last block, reaching the porch quite breathless.

The house was dark, the front door locked. Penny let herself in with a key, switched on the lights, and after getting a snack from the refrigerator, started upstairs.

From her father's room issued loud snores. However, Mrs. Weems' door stood open, and as Penny glanced in she was surprised to see that the bed had not been disturbed.

"Mrs. Weems must still be at the Hodges'," she thought. "Perhaps I should go after her. She'll have a long walk in this rain."

Penny went to a window and looked out. The downpour showed no sighs of slackening. With a sigh she found her raincoat and started for the garage.

During her absence, Mr. Parker had towed Leaping Lena to a vacant lot adjoining the property. The maroon car awaited her beneath shelter, and she drove it through dark streets to the Hodges' modest home.

Lights glowed cheerily from the lower floor windows. In response to Penny's knock, a bent old man, his hands gnarled by hard labor, opened the door.

"Is it Penelope?" he asked, squinting at her through the rain. "Come in!

Come in!"

"Good evening, Mr. Hodges. Is Mrs. Weems still here?"

"Yes, I am, Penny," called the housekeeper. "Goodness, what time is it anyway?"

"Nearly midnight."

Penny shook water from her coat and stepped into the spic and span living room. An unshaded electric light disclosed a rug too bright, wallpaper too glaring, furniture stiff and old fashioned. Yet one felt at once welcome, for the seamstress and her husband were simple, friendly people.

"Have a chair, Penelope," invited Mrs. Hodges. She was short like her husband, with graying hair and an untroubled countenance.

"Thank you, but I can't stay," replied Penny. "I came to drive Mrs. Weems home."

"I had no idea it was so late," the housekeeper said, getting to her feet. "Mrs. Hodges and I have been planning my traveling outfit."

"I'll try to have the dresses for you within the next two weeks,"

promised the seamstress. "Your good fortune makes me very happy, Maud.

Isn't the news of her inheritance wonderful, Penelope?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," stammered Penny. "Only I hope Mrs. Weems isn't leaving us within two weeks. What's this about a traveling outfit?"

"I've always wanted fine clothing," said Mrs. Weems dreamily. "Mrs.

Hodges is making me a suit, three silk dresses, a tissue velvet evening gown--"

"An evening gown!" Penny gasped. "Where will you wear it?"

"I'll find places."

"Maybe she aims to catch a husband while she's galavantin' around out there in Californy," contributed Mr. Hodges with a sly wink.

"The very idea!" laughed Mrs. Weems, yet with no displeasure.

Penny sagged into the nearest rocking chair. The conversation was paced too fast for her.

"Evening gowns--husbands--California," she murmured weakly. "Wait until Dad hears about this."

"Mr. Hodges was only joking," declared Mrs. Weems, reaching for her hat.

"I wouldn't marry the best man on earth. But I definitely am going west this summer."

"I envy you, Maud," said the seamstress, her eyes shining. "Pa and I want to go out there and buy a little orange grove someday. But with taxes what they are, we can't seem to save a penny."

Mrs. Weems squeezed her friend's hand.

"I wish I could take you along, Jenny," she said. "All these years you've sewed your poor fingers almost to the bone. You deserve an easier life."

"Oh, Pa and I don't complain," the seamstress answered brightly. "And things are going to look up."

"Sure they are," agreed Mr. Hodges. "I'll get a job any day now."

Penny, who was watching the seamstress' face was amazed to see it suddenly transformed. Losing her usual calm, Mrs. Hodges exclaimed:

"Pa! It just this minute came to me! Maud getting her inheritance is another psychic sign!"

Penny rocked violently and even Mrs. Weems looked startled.

"I don't know what you mean, Jenny," she said.

"We said we wouldn't tell anybody, Ma," protested Mr. Hodges mildly.

"Mrs. Weems is my best friend, and Penelope won't tell. Will you, Penelope?"

"Not what I don't know," replied Penny in bewilderment. "How can Mrs.

Weems' inheritance have anything to do with a psychic sign?"

"You may as well tell 'em," grinned Mr. Hodges, "If you keep the news much longer you'll bust."

"The strangest thing happened three nights ago," Mrs. Hodges began, her voice quivering with excitement. "But wait! First I'll show you the letter!"

CHAPTER 8 _PSYCHIC SIGNS_

As Penny and Mrs. Weems waited, the seamstress went to another room, returning with a stamped, slit envelope.

"Notice the postmark," she requested, thrusting the letter into Penny's hand.