Part 2

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."