BAD NEWS FOR DEB
After her brother Jack had gone, Deb stood by the window a long time,
watching the progress of the fire. She beheld the flames shoot up,
heard the shrill whistle of the engines, and the shouts of the firemen,
and finally saw the light subside.
She opened the window, and from the conversation of the passers-by she
learned that it was Mr. Felix Gray's mansion that had been burned.
The little bronze clock upon the kitchen shelf struck four.
"Jack will be returning soon," she thought, "and he'll be awfully tired,
too."
An hour passed. She had put on a loose wrapper and sat in the rocker,
moving gently forward and backward. Presently the curly head began to
nod, and after one or two feeble attempts to rouse up, Deb sank calmly
into the land of dreams.
When she awoke, she found it was broad daylight, and the tread of many
feet upon the pavement outside told that work had already begun.
"Eight o'clock!" exclaimed the girl. "What can keep Jack so long?"
Then the thought struck her that her brother had returned and retired
without waking her, but a glance revealed the empty bed.
Deb's face blanched a trifle as the idea crossed her mind that maybe
something had happened, after all. Fires were such dreadful things,
with falling chimneys and half-burned staircases, and Jack was so
daring, and so ready to risk his life for the benefit of others.
"I'll go down to Mrs. Snitzer's and find out about it," was her
conclusion, and locking the door she descended the stairs.
Mrs. Snitzer was a German woman, who, with her husband and three
stalwart sons, occupied the floor below. She was a stout, kindly-faced
woman of about fifty, had been Deb's neighbor for a year, and took a
genuine interest in the girl and her brother.
"Your brudder no got home yet from der fire?" she said, after Deb had
stated the object of her morning call; "I thought der fire vas out long
ago. Mine boys come home, and vent to ped again, aput five o'clock. Da
don't work now, so da say: 'Mudder, ve take a goot sleep for vonce in
our lifes;'" she added, with a broad smile.
"Jack's out of work, too," said Deb, soberly.
"Yah? Vat a shame! Nefer mind, it don't last forefer. Come, have some
coffee mit me. My man ist gone out for the baber. He come back soon."
The good woman set out one of her low chairs, and knowing that Mrs.
Snitzer's invitations were genuine, the girl sat down, and allowed
herself to be helped to a bowl of the steaming beverage, accompanied by
several slices of sugared zweibach.
Just as the two were finishing Mr. Snitzer came in, paper in hand.
His face grew troubled upon seeing Deb.
"I vas sorry for you," he said, approaching her.
"Sorry for me?" repeated the girl, with a puzzled look. "Why, Mr.
Snitzer?"
"Gracious! Didn't you hear?" returned the man, dropping his paper in
astonishment.
"Hear what?" faltered Deb.
Mr. Snitzer spoke in German to his wife, who jumped to her feet.
"Nein! nein!" exclaimed the woman, vehemently. "He nefer done dot--nefer
in his whole life!"
And then as gently as possible Mrs. Snitzer related how Jack had been
accused by Mr. Felix Gray of setting fire to the mansion, and was now
languishing in the town jail.
Deb's outburst was dreadful to behold. She threw herself upon the old
German woman's breast and sobbed as if her heart would break. Her
Jack--her own dear brother, in prison! The only one she had in the wide
world taken away from her, and sent to a criminal's cell! It was too
horrible to realize.
"How cruel of them to do it!" she moaned. "And he is innocent, too. He
was home when the fire broke out;" and she shook her head in despair.
"Of course he didn't do it," said Mr. Snitzer. "All der men say so.
Jack vas as steady as anypody. I dink it vas some of der hot-headed men
vas guilty."
"So don't cry, my dear girl," added Mrs. Snitzer, sympathetically. "It
vill come out all right by der end;" and she took one corner of her
clean gingham apron and wiped the tear-stained cheeks.
"Where is the--the jail?" asked Deb presently, in a low voice.
Mr. Snitzer described its location.
"You don't vas going there!" exclaimed the German woman.
"Yes, I am," declared the girl, resolutely, with a sudden, strong look
in her beautiful eyes.
"But it vas a terrible bad blace," Mrs. Snitzer ventured to remark.
"I don't care," replied Deb. "I won't mind going where Jack is. I must
see if I can't do something for him."
Deb ran up stairs. Her heart was full of fear, and beat wildly.
She exchanged her wrapper for a suitable dress, and arranged her hair.
As she was adjusting her hat, there was a knock on the door, and
thinking Mrs. Snitzer had come up, she bid the person enter.
"Ah, just in time, I see!" was the exclamation, made in Mr. Hammerby's
voice.
Deb's face clouded even more than before.
"Oh, dear, you here?" she ejaculated in vexed tones.
"Yes; on hand, as I always am," replied the agent, removing his hat. "I
suppose you are ready with the rent?"
"No, I haven't the money," replied Deb. Somehow it was all she could
manage to say.
"Your brother was unable to raise the amount?"
"He hasn't had time to try."
"I'm sorry, but as I said before 'business is business,' and I'll have
to serve the notice," and drawing a paper from his pocket, Mr. Hammerby
handed it over.
It was a regular notice drawn up in due form, demanding that in three
days they quit the place.
Deb read it, but in her excitement did not notice that the avaricious
agent had dated it one day back.
"And must we leave in three days?" she faltered.
"Most assuredly--unless you raise the cash."
"But where will we go?" continued the girl hopelessly.
"That's for you to decide," was the answer. Mr. Hammerby had gone
through so many "scenes," as he termed them, that the evident suffering
of the person he addressed did not affect him.
"But we haven't got anywhere to go," burst out Deb.
"Well, that's not my fault, is it?"
"No, but----"
"Then it's pay or leave," was the cold reply.
"What's up now, Mr. Hammerby?" asked a quiet voice from the hallway.
It was the nephew of the tool manufacturer who had come. His name was
Monteray Gray--the Monteray being generally shortened to Mont. He was a
young man of twenty, and kept the books for the shipping department of
the tool works.
"What, Mr. Gray, is that you?" exclaimed the agent, taken back at the
sudden interruption. "Oh, it's only the same old story of no money for
the landlord," he added.
Mont looked at Deb. He knew both her and Jack very well.
"I am sorry to hear it," he said, with a pained face.
"It's all because of the shut-down at the factory," explained Deb, who,
for a purely womanly reason wanted to set herself right with the young
man.
In a few short words she made him acquainted with the situation.
Involuntarily Mont's hand went down in his pocket, and then he suddenly
remembered that he had no money with him.
"See here, Mr. Hammerby," he said, "you had better take this notice
back. There is no doubt that you will get your money."
"Can't do it," replied the agent, with a decided shake of the head.
"But my uncle would never consent to having them put out," persisted the
young man.
"Mr. Gray's orders are to give notice to any one who doesn't pay,"
returned Mr. Hammerby, grimly; "I'm only doing as directed."
"But this is an outrage!" exclaimed Mont. "My uncle virtually owes Mr.
Willington twenty odd dollars, and here you intend to put him out for a
few dollars rent."
"You can see your uncle about it, if you wish. I shall stick to my
orders."
"Then you won't stop this notice?"
"No."
"Very well," replied Mont, quietly.
"I'm hired to do certain things, and I'm going to do them," continued
the agent. "Besides, I just heard this morning that this fellow is
locked up for setting fire to your uncle's house. I should not think
that you would care to stick up for him," he went on.
"But I do care," returned the young man, with a sudden show of spirit.
"He is a friend of mine, and I don't believe him guilty."
"Humph! Well, maybe. It's none of my business; all I want is the rent,
and if they can't pay they must leave," said Mr. Hammerby, bluntly.
"Good morning," he continued to Deb, and without waiting for more words,
turned and left the apartment.
"I am sorry that my uncle has such a hard-hearted man for his agent,"
observed Mont to Deb with a look of chagrin on his face.
"So am I," she replied, and then suddenly; "Oh, Mont, Jack is----"
"I know all about it," he interrupted. "I've just been down to see him.
He gave me this note for you," and Mont handed the note to Deb.