The Daily Monitor Leader

LUCKY PENNY

A TRIP TO KANSAS

CHAPTER XI:
The campaign for an honest city government was a triumph for the Courier. Never had there been such interest in an election.
Jim worked endlessly, tirelessly.
Absorbed in the campaign,
Jim found little time to check
activities on the plateau above
Kirktown. Steam shovels were
busy now, digging foundations,
clearing the land for the ambitious
project Charlie Jones had
undertaken for Penny.
Penny helped to tabulate the
votes and to write copy for the
Courier's election extra. Their
all-night session left them weary
and hungry. Arm in arm they
walked up the street in search of
breakfast, enjoying the fragrance
of the dawn.
"Why don't you take a little
vacation?"
Penny suggested.
"You certainly have earned one.
Now that the election rush is
over. I can handle the paper. You
really should take it easy-for
your own good."
"I wish I could get back to
Kansas," Jim chuckled. "Mom
would fill me so full of corn I'd
cluck like a chicken. And speaking
of chicken, Penny, you
should taste the ones she fries.
Nothing like it in the world."
"Go ahead. Jim." she urged.
"Visit your folks. Forget the pa-
per. You'll be better for it when
you come back."
"Penny," Jim said. "I will go
back! I want to tell the folks
about you. This time I'll go
alone. Next time, you're com-
ing along with me." He babbled
happily. excitedly, about his
folks and the scenes of his child-
hood. Once he had made up his
mind, he couldn't bear the delay
of packing and waiting for a
train.
At the station he poured last-
minute instructions to Penny.
"I'll miss you, Penny," Jim
whispered. "A month is a long
time to be away from you." Yes
a month was a long time, she
reflected, as she waved goodby
to the fast-receding train.
A glow of pleasure flushed
Penny's cheeks as she thought of
the surprise in store for Jim on
his return. She wondered what
he would say when he saw the
new Courier building, in the
new Kirktown, for the first time.
In the busy weeks that fol-
lowed, she found time to visit
the Kirk offices once more. "Mr.
Stimson," Penny told the execu-
tive, "I've come to ask you to ac-
company me on a trip through
the mills. I want to meet all the
men. I want a speaker's plat-
form, and a microphone. I have
something to say to them. Can
you have everything ready to-
morrow?" Stammering, the sur-
prised Stimson agreed to make
the preparations she demanded.
Daily, Penny drove to the
plateau where construction of
New Kirktown was progressing
with amazing speed.
"There's one building
that
must be
finished
within
a
month," she told Charlie Jones,
"That's the Courier building."
"We'll have
it
done,
the
architect
assured
her,
"well
ahead of schedule."
Penny arrived at the mills to
find the steel workers gathered
curiously about the flag-draped
platform erected for her.
"Fellows," Penny said, "I have
a confession to make. I'm not
Penny Kellogg. I'm Penelope
Kirk. I came into the mills the
way I did to find out for myself
what you're like and to learn
what we can do to work together
so that everyone will profit and
everyone will be happy." Silence
filled the room.
"I know some of your griev-
ances," she continued. "They're
going to be corrected. I'm going
to have an office right here in
the mill. I want you to come in
and see me any time you have
anything on your mind. We're
going to work together to make
this the swellest steel outfit in
the country. What do you say?"
They said it, lustily and loudly.
"By the way,
boys," Penny
added.
"Starting this week,
everyone gets a 10 per cent
raise." Unanimously, Stimson
and his executives opened their
mouths in expressions of grieved
surprise. They looked like fish
lined up in a market window.
Penny was happy now, hap-
pier than ever before in her life.
Three weeks had passed since
Jim left. In another week Jim
would return to share with her
the pleasures she had planned so
carefully.
She parked her car in front of
the Courier office, late in the
afternoon. She was surprised to
find the front door open. She
walked in.
There stood Jim. The look in
his eyes hurt her worse than
physical pain. "Jim," was all
that Penny could say, "Jim."
She had never seen him like
this. Tired. Bitter.
His eyes
harsh.
For an endless moment he said
nothing. He merely stood there,
silent, ominous, tense. "Take a
good look. Jim Vickers. sucker.
That's me. Look at me and
laugh. You've had a good time,
haven't you?" His words burned.
"But. Jim," she protested.
"You wrote to me every day.
You promised to write me about
everything
that happened in
town.
What changed your
mind?"
He didn't wait for an
answer.
"I know. It would be
fun to surprise me. When I came
back I'd find Penelope Kirk's
name in the masthead instead of
Penny Kellogg's, and a new
building for the Courier instead
of my dumpy basement.
"You neglected one thing. You
forgot that my folks are on the
mailing list. I saw the last issue
of the Courier in spite of your
failure to send one to me. I saw
the architect's drawings of New
Kirktown." He laughed bitterly.
"You certainly go
carry out a joke. What fun it
will be to tell your friends about
the poor sap who wanted a new
town and come back from his
vacation and there it was. Like
a kid getting a present from
Santa Claus.
"Tell them what a fool I was.
I thought you were poor and
friendless and wanted love. Tell
them I actually made love to
you. Tell them the poor sap ac-
tually thought you loved him.
Good joke. isn't it?" He turned
on his heel and walked out.
Wearily. Penny closed the of-
fice door. She slid into her road-
ster and drove slowly to the
apartment she still shared with
Midge. She packed her clothes
and a few little trinkets. Her
luggage she placed in the trunk
of her car. To Midge she wrote
a brief, friendly farewell note.
When she reached the Courier
office the sun had already de-
scended. She groped for a light
switch, and the bright glare mo-
mentarily blinded her. As her
vision cleared. she stared in as-
tonishment.
Grotesquely uncomfortable, Jim
was slumped in the swivel chair
he had rescued from the ruins of
the old office. His head rolled
crazily along the back edge of
the chair. On the table in front
of him stood an empty whisky
bottle.
Shocked. Penny stood still, de-
bating what to do next. She re-
membered his steadfast resolu-
tion to refrain from drinking.
Once before. drink had ruined
his career. Suddenly the an-
swer dawned on her.
"Don't you see?" she asked
herself. "He needs you! He can't
get along without you! You've
won him! He's yours!"
Jim had thrown his ancient
valise in a corner. She carried it
out to his dusty car, placing the
heavy grip tenderly on the back
seat. She removed her own lug-
age from the roadster and
placed it beside his. She had
some difficulty in rousing him
sufficiently so that he could
walk with her, unsteadily, to the
decrepit vehicle he loved so well.
"Jim needs me,"she repeated
over and over again. "He needs
me. He needs me."
Now there
was
music
in
Penny's heart. Never had the
night seemed so glorious. Never
had a trip seemed so pleasant.
Jim's car creaked and groaned
protestingly, but she wouldn't
want it otherwise.
Penny had found herself at
last. She belonged in Kirktown,
with Jim. Here she could do the
most good. Here, with Jim, she
could be happiest.
"Okay, Jim," she said softly.
"Just take it easy. You still have
another week's vacation in Kan-
sas coming to you. Remember
your promise? You said you'd
take me with you next time you
went to Kansas. I want to meet
your mom and dad. Besides, I'll
need your mother's recipe for
fried chicken."
THE END