“Good afternoon, madam. I presume you have been expecting me?” “Yes, sir,” replied Mrs. Hazard, faintly. “I never like to disappoint my tenants,” said the agent grimly. “Here is your receipt, I suppose you have the money ready.” “I am afraid, sir, I will have to ask you to wait a few days,” said Mrs. Hazard, anxiously. “Haven’t you the money, madam?” spoke the agent rather roughly. “I did have it in my bureau drawer, but----” “But what?” demanded Mr. Grab, sharply. “It is gone,” said the little woman, with tears stealing down her cheeks. “Gone!” ejaculated the agent, lifting his shaggy brows, “Where?” “I don’t know.” Mr. Grab rubbed his chin, on which had sprouted a three days’ growth of bristly reddish hair, and a threatening look came into his eyes. “Madam, this is a very lame excuse,” he said, angrily. “It is the truth, sir.” “You can’t pay, then?” “No, sir; but if you will wait----” “Wait, madam! I expect my tenants to pay up promptly. My experience is that if one can’t pay on the first one can’t pay on the second or third, and that if you trust a tenant once he always tries to take advantage of your good nature.” “But, sir, I have never failed to have the money ready before, and we have lived here more than a year.” “Quite right, madam; and in consideration of that fact I will on this occasion allow three days’ grace. I will call at twelve o’clock on Friday, and if you are not ready to pay then, I will have to serve you with dispossess proceedings. Good day, madam.” Mr. Grab thereupon took his departure, leaving his distressed tenants in a sad state of perplexity as to where the needed fifteen dollars would come from in so short a space of time. CHAPTER II. IN WHICH JACK HAZARD MAKES A HERO OF HIMSELF. When Jack Hazard left his home that morning, after kissing his mother and sister, as was his invariable custom, he was in good spirits. “I’ll get something to do to-day sure,” he said to himself. “Mother has the rent, thank goodness, and I haven’t that on my mind.” He found his particular friend, Ed Potter, waiting for him at the corner. Ed worked in a Vandewater Street printing house, and he and Jack always walked down town from the neighborhood of Grand Street together of a morning. “Haven’t caught on yet, have you, Jack?” inquired Potter. “No; but I’ve a dozen places here I’ve cut out of the ‘World’ that I’m going to look up.” “Hope you’ll connect with one. If you knew anything about typesticking I could put you on to a job. There’s a shop on Nassau Street wants a boy to pull proofs, hold copy, and fill in at the case on plain reprint. If you were only up in the business you could get seven or eight dollars a week.” “I should like to earn as much as that,” said Jack, eagerly, “but I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with less to start with.” “Why, one of these jobs is in Brooklyn,” said Ed. “You aren’t going over there after work, are you?”