“Wait!” cried Penelope. “His credit is a hundred and thirteen thousand—but I have his slip for thirty-five thousand. If I turn it in, that would fix it up for him, wouldn’t it.”
Mark felt a warm wave of gratitude toward Penelope. She was a million percent; no question about it.
“Well—yes, I suppose so. We don’t like these last-minute adjustments, but I suppose—”
She came waving the slip and thrust it into Conley’s face.
“There!” she said triumphantly. “Put that on my account.”
Conley looked a little sad. “This is your slip?” he asked Mark.
Mark nodded gratefully.
“Let me have your credit card, Miss Penelope. Now, then, I’ll transfer these points—hm.” Conley’s eyebrows raised. “Do you know what your balance is now, Miss Penelope?”
Penelope’s mouth shot open and she popped her hand across it.
“You have now a hundred and twenty-two thousand,” Conley said. He got up from his chair. “Well, I’m sorry, folks. That’s the way it is.”
Mark gulped. “What way?”
“Miss Penelope will have to come with me.”
Mark was on his feet. “If she goes, I go,” he said dramatically.
Conley looked at him. “If you feel that way about it, there won’t be any trouble at all. You did go over, so I can take you in too.”
“In where?” Penelope demanded.