never-ah, here is your brother at last. Good morning, Mr. Willington."
"Good morning, Mr. Hammerby," returned Jack, soberly, and with a sinking heart. "You came for the rent, I suppose."
"Yes, sir, always prompt, you know," replied the agent, rubbing his hands together.
"I told him you had just gone to get the money," put in Deb.
"I-I'm sorry, but I can't pay you today," said Jack, as calmly as he could, but with a worried glance at his sister.
"Oh, Jack, what has happened?" burst out Deb, growing pale.
"The bank has stopped payment."
"And you expected to get your money from that place?" asked Mr. Hammerby.
"Yes, sir."
"Your sister told me you had gone out for it, but did not tell me where."
"Can't you get any money, Jack?" asked Deb, catching his arm.
"Not a cent."
The tears started in the girl's eyes. Here was indeed a blow.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I must have the rent," said Mr. Hammerby, firmly.
"I can't pay it," replied Jack. "If I had the money, nothing would please me more. But I haven't got any pay for the past two weeks' work, and I have but three dollars and a half, and that we must keep for living purposes."
"Humph! When do you propose to pay?"
"In a few days. Just as soon as I get my money from the factory."
"That won't suit me. If I don't have my money by to-night I'll serve you a three-days' notice to quit."
It may seem strange that Mr. Hammerby should be so hard upon his tenants, but the truth was, he understood more of the factory and the bank affairs than was generally known.
He was well aware that it would be a long time before cash could be had at either place.
"But surely you wouldn't turn us out for being behind just this once!" exclaimed Jack. "We have paid promptly for three years."
"I can't make any allowance. It's pay or leave. I might have got more than you pay for these rooms, but I let you have them at a low figure because I thought you would be prompt."
"But Mr. Gray owns this building," put in Deb, eagerly; "surely he will not allow his own workmen, to whom money is due, to be put out."
"He doesn't bother his head about it," returned Mr. Hammerby, with assumed dignity. "He expects me to obey orders, and those orders are to collect or give notice."
"Well, I haven't the money," repeated Jack.
"I'll step in in the morning," went on the agent, "and then it's money or notice. Good day."
And without further words Mr. Hammerby left the apartment. The minute the door was closed Deb burst into tears.
"They will set us into the street!" she sobbed. "Was ever a person so cruel before! Oh, Jack, what shall we do? What shall we do?"
Jack sank into a chair without replying. His mind was busy trying to devise some means of averting the blow that appeared so imminent. Though it cut him to the heart to see his sister so distressed, he could offer her no comforting hope.
"I'm going up to see Mr. Gray," he said, finally, "I'll tell him just how the matter stands. I don't believe if he knew the particulars that he would let Mr. Hammerby put us out."
"If he did he'd be the hardest-hearted man in Corney," declared Deb, between her sobs.
For Jack to think, was to act, and in a few seconds he was ready to depart.
"Shall I go along?" asked his sister, hesitatingly.
"I guess not. You can meet me at the corner if you like," replied Jack.
Mr. Gray's residence was situated in the fashionable part of the town. It was an elegant establishment throughout, and Jack was not a little awed by the sumptuous surroundings.
He was ushered into the hall, and found himself among half a dozen others, all awaiting an interview with the manufacturer.
It was fully half an hour before he was told to enter the library. He found Mr. Felix Gray seated at a desk which was deep with letters and documents.
The manufacturer was a stout man of fifty, with a certain sullen, bull-dog cast of countenance.
"Well, sir, what is it?" he asked, hardly looking up.
In a brief but clear manner Jack stated his case. Mr. Gray hardly heard him out.
"Mr. Willington," he said sharply, "I never interfere with my agents' doings. They have entire charge. Besides, it would be folly for me to make your case an exception. If I did so, any other tenant might ask the same privilege."
"Yes, but if you would only give me an order for some of the money due me, or for my savings-" began the young machinist, growing desperate.
Mr. Gray drew himself up.
"You must get that in the regular way," he returned coolly. "I never make exceptions to my rules. Good morning."
And before he could realize it, Jack was out on the street again with bitter defeat written in every line of his handsome face.
CHAPTER III
A RESULT OF A FIRE
At the corner Jack met Deb, whose anxiety had caused her to follow him close to the Gray mansion.
"My! how long you've been!" she exclaimed, and then with a keen glance into his face: "Did he- Did he-"
"He said he couldn't do a thing, that it was all in the agent's hands," burst out Jack, "He is meaner than mean. He will let that man put us out even when he owes us more than the amount of the rent. Well, it may be law, but it isn't justice and he shall not do it!"
And the young machinist shut his teeth in grim determination.
"If you can't get the money from the bank, I suppose you can't go into business for yourself," said Deb, when they reached home.
"That's true enough. Before the shut-down I might have borrowed money, but now I guess all our friends need every cent they have."
"Can't we raise some?" Deb's eyes wandered around the apartment. Jack gave a dry little laugh.
"Not on this stuff," he replied. "But we're not reduced to that yet." He walked over to where the model he was working on stood. "Wish this was finished. I believe I can make a neat sum out of this invention."
"How long will it take to complete it?"
"Can't tell. It depends on one's ideas. But I'm going out."
"Where?"
"To look for work."
In a moment Jack had descended to the sidewalk. He found the streets swarming with people, and as he had before thought, with a thousand men idle, what chance was there of getting work? Finding that every place in Corney was full he determined to try Redrock, another manufacturing town, situated on the Camel Falls river, several miles below the present place. The road between the two places followed the river bank. As Jack trudged along close to the water, he heard a sudden cry for help.
Looking ahead he saw that one of the rear wheels of a wagon had come off, and the driver, horses and vehicle were all in danger of being dumped into the stream. It was but a moment's work for the young machinist to rush up, and by catching the horses' heads, to turn them in such a way that the turnout righted itself in the center of the road.
"Thank you, young man!" exclaimed the aged farmer, who was driving, as he sprang to the ground. "That was a narrow escape, and no mistake."
"Your wagon is pretty well damaged," observed Jack as he examined the shattered axle.
"Well, troubles never come singly." replied Farmer Farrell, for such was his name. "This morning something got into the patent rake so it wouldn't work; then the grindstone got cranky, and now this. But thanks to Providence, I'm safe. I reckon I'll have to go back for the other rig, though. Going my way?"
"Yes,