CHAPTER II.
FOR THE SAKE OF HOME
"Can this be possible? Has the bank really burst?"
Over and over Jack asked himself the question. Then the words of thecrowd echoed and re-echoed through his ears. Yes, the bank hadsuspended payment. There was no money for him--no money for anyone!
"It's too bad!" he groaned. "What will Deb say?"
The thought of his sister gave him another pang. Without money andwithout work, how could he continue to take care of her?
"Oh! Jack, me b'y, not wan pinny av me two hundred dollars will theygive me at all," exclaimed Andy Mosey, a fellow-workman, bitterly.
"How did it happen?" asked the young machinist.
"No wan knows. Oi guess old Gray is in a toight hole, an' is usin' thebank's money to get him out."
Andy Mosey was a heavy-set Irishman, with a bloated, red face and fieryhair and beard. His work brought him into daily contact with the youngmachinist, but Jack did not like the man, first on account of hisdrinking habit, and secondly, because he suspected the Irishman ofhaving stolen from the pocket of his jumper a silver match safe--ahighly-valued Willington heirloom.
"It's a bad business, and no mistake."
The speaker was Dennis Corrigan, a pattern maker. He was abrother-in-law to Mosey, but much more educated, and somewhat refined inappearance as well.
"Yes, indeed," returned Jack.
"How do they expect us to live if they don't pay us our wages or let usdraw our savings either?"
"Old Gray will pay dearly fer this," put in Andy Mosey, with a wickedlook in his eye; "oi'll vow he'll be moighty sorry for this day's worrukere long."
Jack elbowed his way up the bank steps and into the building. Thecashier's window was closed, and behind the glass this notice was pastedup:
"_Depositors are hereby notified that owing to the unexpected run uponthis bank, no further payments will be made until the more availableassets are converted into cash._"
The crowd were all talking loudly and excitedly, and Jack tried in vainto obtain definite information concerning the cause for the suspension.
At length, sick at heart, he returned to the sidewalk, where Andy Mosey,the worse for several glasses of liquor, again addressed him.
"Not wan pinny av me two hundred dollars, Jack, me b'y!" he repeated ina heavy voice; "an' they call it a free counthry! Sure it's only freefer rich people to rob the poor!"
"It's rough," replied Jack.
"Old Gray will pay dearly fer it, mark me wurruds!"
"What will you do?"
"Never moind, Jack, me b'y! Thrust Andy Mosey to get square wid theould villian!"
Jack retraced his steps homeward with slow and unwilling steps. All hisbright hopes of the past hour had been dashed to naught. No money meantno start in business, and with a thousand men idle what chances werethere of finding employment?
"If I had a few dollars in my pocket I might try some other town," hethought. "But without some money, it's hard lines, sure enough."
Jack would not have felt it so much had he been alone, but with Debdepending upon him, his responsibility seemed more than doubled.
Their home was on the second floor of a large apartment house standingupon one of the side streets of Corney. As Jack ascended the stairs heheard talking in the kitchen.
"Wonder who is here? Visitors of some kind," he thought.
Entering, the young machinist found Mr. Hammerby, the house-agent, inearnest conversation with Deb.
Mr. Hammerby was a short, dapper business man, small in form, and aperson of few words.
"Yes, I never allow a rent day to go by," he was saying. "People whohire from me must expect to pay promptly."
"But sometimes people fall ill, and get behind----" began Deb.
"True, but that's not my fault, and I never--ah, here is your brother atlast. Good morning, Mr. Willington."
"Good morning, Mr. Hammerby," returned Jack, soberly, and with a sinkingheart. "You came for the rent, I suppose."
"Yes, sir, always prompt, you know," replied the agent, rubbing hishands 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 hecould, 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 mewhere."
"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 wouldplease 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 forliving 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 serveyou a three-days' notice to quit."
It may seem strange that Mr. Hammerby should be so hard upon histenants, but the truth was, he understood more of the factory and thebank affairs than was generally known.
He was well aware that it would be a long time before cash could be hadat 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 morethan you pay for these rooms, but I let you have them at a low figurebecause I thought you would be prompt."
"But Mr. Gray owns this building," put in Deb, eagerly; "surely he willnot allow his own workmen, to whom money is due, to be put out."
"He doesn't bother his head about it," returned Mr. Hammerby, withassumed dignity. "He expects me to obey orders, and those orders are tocollect 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 moneyor notice. Good day."
And without further words Mr. Hammerby left the apartment. The minutethe door was closed Deb burst into tears.
"They will set us into the street!" she sobbed. "Was ever a person socruel before! Oh, Jack, what shall we do? What shall we do?"
Jack sank into a chair without replying. His mind was busy trying todevise some means of averting the blow that appeared so imminent. Thoughit cut him to the heart to see his sister so distressed, he could offerher no comforting hope.
"I'm going up to see Mr. Gray," he said, finally, "I'll tell him justhow the matter stands. I don't believe if he knew the particulars thathe 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 todepart.
"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 littleawed by the sumptuous surroundings.
He was ushered into the hall, and found himself among half a dozenothers, all awaiting an interview with the manufacturer.
It was fully half an hour before he was told to enter the library. Hefound Mr. Felix Gray seated at a desk which was deep with letters anddocuments.
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.
&nbs
p; "WELL, SIR, WHAT IS IT?" HE ASKED, HARDLY LOOKING UP.]
In a brief but clear manner Jack stated his case. Mr. Gray hardly heardhim out.
"Mr. Willington," he said sharply, "I never interfere with my agents'doings. They have entire charge. Besides, it would be folly for me tomake your case an exception. If I did so, any other tenant might askthe same privilege."
"Yes, but if you would only give me an order for some of the money dueme, 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 nevermake exceptions to my rules. Good morning."
And before he could realize it, Jack was out on the street again withbitter defeat written in every line of his handsome face.