“Morning, Dad,” Penny greeted her father as she slid into a vacant chair at the breakfast table. “What’s news and why?”

“No news.” Mr. Parker lowered his paper, and folding it, devoted himself to a plate of bacon and eggs.

“Just fourteen pages of well-set type, I suppose. Isn’t there anything about that big stone Lou and I found at the Marborough place?”

“Not a line. I told you the Star would play that yarn down.”

“Why are you so convinced it’s all a hoax?” Penny demanded, reaching across the table for the coffee percolator.

“Must I give you a diagram?” the publisher asked wearily. “After you’ve been in the newspaper business as long as I have, you don’t need reasons. You sense things.”
[87]

“Just like a bloodhound!” Penny teased. “How about the other papers? Aren’t they carrying the story either?”

“They are,” Mr. Parker admitted a bit grimly. “The News used a half page of pictures today and went for the story in a big way.”

“I may subscribe to a rival paper just to keep posted on the latest developments,” Penny teased.

“Nothing really new has come out. Jay Franklin is trying to sell the Marborough stone to the museum at a fancy price, and the institution officials are seriously considering his proposition.”

“Then, in their opinion the stone is an authentic one?”

“Experts have been known to be wrong,” Mr. Parker insisted. “I claim no knowledge of ancient writing, but I do have common sense. For the time being, at least, I shall continue to play down the story.”

Penny finished breakfast, and before starting to school, telephoned Jay Franklin. Relaying Mrs. Marborough’s message, she requested him to visit the old lady as soon as it was convenient. Somewhat to her surprise he promised that he would call at Rose Acres that afternoon.

During school, Penny kept thinking about the Marborough stone and her father’s theory that the writing and symbols it bore were fakes. It occurred to her that Truman Crocker’s opinion might be interesting for the old man had worked with rocks his entire life.
[88]

“Let’s hike out to his shack this afternoon,” she impulsively proposed to Louise Sidell.

“All right,” her chum agreed. “Why not invite Rhoda too? She might enjoy accompanying us.”

Upon being approached, the trailer camp girl immediately accepted the invitation. Since the last meeting of the Palette Club nearly all of the students had been very kind to her, but she seemed rather indifferent to everyone save Louise and Penny.

As the three girls trudged along the dusty road en-route to the river shack, Rhoda spoke of Mr. Coaten and his friend who still remained in Riverview.

“They’ve taken a room at the Riverview Hotel,” she told Penny and Louise. “Perhaps I am too suspicious, but I don’t trust them. Mr. Coaten never would seem like a father to me.”

“Is he married?” Louise questioned curiously.

“His wife remained in Dallas. The Coatens have two children of their own. I can’t understand why they should be so eager to adopt two more—penniless at that.”

“What will you do?” Louise inquired.

“I don’t know. Ted and I are deadlocked. He favors the adoption, but I am against it.”

“I think you are wise to be cautious—and my advice is ‘stand firm,’” Penny declared promptly. “The Breens were kind enough to take you in when you had no friends, so why not stay on with them?”
[89]

“That’s the trouble,” Rhoda confessed. “They haven’t much money, you know, and Mr. Coaten has offered to give them a hundred dollars if they make no objection to the adoption.”

“Buying them off?” Penny commented.

“In a way, yes. But why should Mr. Coaten be so interested in adopting Ted and me? We’ll certainly be a financial liability.”

The problem was such a perplexing one that neither Penny nor Louise could offer any convincing answer. Considering everything Rhoda had told them it appeared that Mr. Coaten must be motivated entirely by generosity. Yet, it seemed odd that if he were an old family friend he had not interested himself in their case at the time of Mr. Wiegand’s death.

Choosing a trail which led along the river, the girls soon came to Truman Crocker’s shack. It was a long, one-story frame building which served the dual purpose of dwelling and shop. The door of the workroom stood ajar, and the stonecutter could be seen grinding a granite block.

“Good afternoon,” Penny said in a loud voice to make herself heard.

The stonecutter jumped from surprise and switched off a running motor.

“You scared me out of a year’s growth,” he grinned. “Well, what can I do for you?”
[90]

“Not much of anything,” Penny responded, glancing with interest about the cluttered workshop. “We were just out for a walk and thought we would stop in for a few minutes.”

Her attention drawn to a large rock which had been covered with wet sack............