this interview may concern me.”
CHAPTER 8
PARENTAL PROTEST
In a few minutes the office boy returned, followed by a distinguished, middle-aged man who carried a cane. Penny gave him an astonished glance for she had expected to see Grant Atherwald. It had not occurred to her that there might be two persons with the same surname.
“Mr. Atherwald?” inquired her father, waving the visitor into a chair.
“James Atherwald.”
The man spoke shortly and did not sit down. Instead he spread out a copy of the night edition of the Star and pointed to the story which Penny had covered. She quaked inwardly, wondering what error of hers was to be exposed.
“Do you see this?” Mr. Atherwald demanded.
“What about it?” inquired the editor pleasantly.
“You are holding my family up to ridicule by printing such a story! Grant Atherwald is my son!”
“Is the story incorrect?”
“Yes, you imply that my son deliberately jilted Sylvia Kippenberg!”
“And actually he didn’t?” Mr. Parker inquired evenly.
“Certainly not. My son is a man of honor and had a very deep regard for Sylvia. Under no circumstance would he have jilted her.”
“Still, the wedding did not take place.”
“That is true,” Mr. Atherwald admitted.
“Perhaps you can explain why it was postponed?”
“I don’t know what happened to Grant,” Mr. Atherwald said reluctantly. “He left our home in ample time for the ceremony, and I might add, was in excellent spirits. I believe he must have been the victim of a stupid, practical joke.”
“Well, that suggests a new angle,” Mr. Parker remarked thoughtfully. “Did your son have friends who might be apt to play such a joke on him?”
“No one of my acquaintance,” Mr. Atherwald answered unwillingly. “Of course, he had many young friends who were not in my circle.”
Penny had listened quietly to the conversation. She now arose and came over to the desk. From her pocket she took the white gold wedding ring.
“Mr. Atherwald,” she said, “I wonder if you could identify this.”
The man studied the trinket for a moment.
“It looks very much like a ring which Grant purchased for Sylvia,” he declared. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it lying on the ground at the Kippenberg estate,” Penny replied vaguely. She had no intention of divulging the exact locality where she had picked up the ring.
“You see,” said Mr. Parker, “we have supporting facts in our possession which were not published. All in all, I think the story was handled discreetly, with due regard for the feelings of those involved.”
“Then you refuse to retract the story?”
“I should like to oblige you, Mr. Atherwald, but you realize such a story as this is of great interest to our readers.”
“You care only for sensationalism!”
“On the contrary, we try to avoid it,” Mr. Parker corrected. “In this particular case, we deliberately played the story down. If it develops that your son actually has disappeared—”
“I tell you it was only a practical joke,” Mr. Atherwald interrupted. “No doubt my son is at home by this time. The wedding has merely been postponed.”
“You are entitled to your opinion,” said Mr. Parker. “And I sincerely hope that you are right.”
“At least do not use that picture which your photographer took of Mrs. Kippenberg. I’ll pay you for it.”
Mr. Parker smiled and shook his head.
“I might have expected such an attitude!” Mr. Atherwald exclaimed angrily. “Good afternoon.”
He left the office, slamming the door behind him.
“Well, you’ve lost another subscriber, Dad,” said Penny flippantly.
“He’s not the first,” returned her father.
“I intended to give Mr. Atherwald the wedding ring, but he went off in too big a hurry. Should I go after him?”
“No, don’t bother, Penny. You might take it around to the picture room and have it photographed. We may use it as Exhibit A if the story develops into anything.”
“How
CHAPTER 8
PARENTAL PROTEST
In a few minutes the office boy returned, followed by a distinguished, middle-aged man who carried a cane. Penny gave him an astonished glance for she had expected to see Grant Atherwald. It had not occurred to her that there might be two persons with the same surname.
“Mr. Atherwald?” inquired her father, waving the visitor into a chair.
“James Atherwald.”
The man spoke shortly and did not sit down. Instead he spread out a copy of the night edition of the Star and pointed to the story which Penny had covered. She quaked inwardly, wondering what error of hers was to be exposed.
“Do you see this?” Mr. Atherwald demanded.
“What about it?” inquired the editor pleasantly.
“You are holding my family up to ridicule by printing such a story! Grant Atherwald is my son!”
“Is the story incorrect?”
“Yes, you imply that my son deliberately jilted Sylvia Kippenberg!”
“And actually he didn’t?” Mr. Parker inquired evenly.
“Certainly not. My son is a man of honor and had a very deep regard for Sylvia. Under no circumstance would he have jilted her.”
“Still, the wedding did not take place.”
“That is true,” Mr. Atherwald admitted.
“Perhaps you can explain why it was postponed?”
“I don’t know what happened to Grant,” Mr. Atherwald said reluctantly. “He left our home in ample time for the ceremony, and I might add, was in excellent spirits. I believe he must have been the victim of a stupid, practical joke.”
“Well, that suggests a new angle,” Mr. Parker remarked thoughtfully. “Did your son have friends who might be apt to play such a joke on him?”
“No one of my acquaintance,” Mr. Atherwald answered unwillingly. “Of course, he had many young friends who were not in my circle.”
Penny had listened quietly to the conversation. She now arose and came over to the desk. From her pocket she took the white gold wedding ring.
“Mr. Atherwald,” she said, “I wonder if you could identify this.”
The man studied the trinket for a moment.
“It looks very much like a ring which Grant purchased for Sylvia,” he declared. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it lying on the ground at the Kippenberg estate,” Penny replied vaguely. She had no intention of divulging the exact locality where she had picked up the ring.
“You see,” said Mr. Parker, “we have supporting facts in our possession which were not published. All in all, I think the story was handled discreetly, with due regard for the feelings of those involved.”
“Then you refuse to retract the story?”
“I should like to oblige you, Mr. Atherwald, but you realize such a story as this is of great interest to our readers.”
“You care only for sensationalism!”
“On the contrary, we try to avoid it,” Mr. Parker corrected. “In this particular case, we deliberately played the story down. If it develops that your son actually has disappeared—”
“I tell you it was only a practical joke,” Mr. Atherwald interrupted. “No doubt my son is at home by this time. The wedding has merely been postponed.”
“You are entitled to your opinion,” said Mr. Parker. “And I sincerely hope that you are right.”
“At least do not use that picture which your photographer took of Mrs. Kippenberg. I’ll pay you for it.”
Mr. Parker smiled and shook his head.
“I might have expected such an attitude!” Mr. Atherwald exclaimed angrily. “Good afternoon.”
He left the office, slamming the door behind him.
“Well, you’ve lost another subscriber, Dad,” said Penny flippantly.
“He’s not the first,” returned her father.
“I intended to give Mr. Atherwald the wedding ring, but he went off in too big a hurry. Should I go after him?”
“No, don’t bother, Penny. You might take it around to the picture room and have it photographed. We may use it as Exhibit A if the story develops into anything.”
“How
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