Thus they managed to live--exist might perhaps be the better word--in a very humble but contented way until the boy was unexpectedly thrown out of work a few days before. Fortunately Mrs. Hazard had got her rent together, for the first of the month was at hand and the landlord’s agent was a strict man of business and showed no favors to any of the tenants. And now at the very last minute, as if to prove that misfortune never comes singly, the money she had saved by many small sacrifices was suddenly found to be missing. It certainly was hard luck. “Somebody must have taken it, mother,” said Annie, after a short silence. “The bills were there this morning after John went out, for I noticed them,” said the little mother, sadly. “And I’ve been in here all the time except a few minutes when I ran out to the grocer’s. Was anyone here while I was out?” “Only Maggie McFadden.” Miss McFadden lived in the flat across the hall. “You don’t think she could have taken the money, do you, mother?” “I don’t want to think that she did,” replied Mrs. Hazard, mournfully. “Maggie lost her position two weeks ago because there was some trouble about her accounts,” said Annie, slowly, as though an unpleasant suspicion was forcing itself in her mind. The McFadden girl, who was somewhat airy and pert in her manners, was conspicuous in the neighborhood for the number and variety of her gowns and hats, and the gossips wondered where she got the money to pay for them all. When approached on the subject she invariably said that Denny, her brother, made “slathers of dough on the races,” thereby intimating that that was the source which produced much of her finery; but many of her acquaintances knew Denny better than she had any idea of, and these persons rather doubted Miss Maggie’s statement. At any rate, when she lost her position as cashier of a large packing house, the neighbors winked their eyes one at another and whispered, “I told you so.” Mrs. Hazard was at no loss to understand what her daughter meant, and the sigh she uttered spoke her own thoughts as plainly as words. “We never could accuse her,” continued Annie, dejectedly. Mrs. Hazard shook her head. “Poor Jack! What will he say when we tell him?” said Annie. “It will be such a shock to him. He is so hopeful. He told me only this morning that as long as we had next month’s rent in hand the future didn’t worry him. He’d see we got along somehow. Isn’t he just the best and dearest brother in the world?” “I dread the agent’s visit, for he will surely be here to-day. He is always so prompt. What shall I say to him?” “I don’t know, mother.” The crisis was too much for them, and mother and daughter wept silently together. At that moment there came a sharp rap on the door. Mrs. Hazard started, hastily wiped her eyes, and with a nervous glance at her daughter, answered the summons. Mr. Grab, the agent for the premises, walked brusquely into the room.