Originally published: Oct. 6, 1905
Genres: Children's
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62840662-a-lucky-deal-or-the-cutest-boy-in-wall-street
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67380
Chapters: 18
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
THE WOLF AT THE DOOR
“I’ve been robbed!” gasped Mrs. Hazard, a pleasant-featured little woman of perhaps forty, sinking into a chair, her face the picture of dismay.
“Mother,” exclaimed her daughter Annie, a slender, delicate girl of fifteen, who sat in a cane rocker, feather-stitching an infant’s jacket with blue silk, a small pile of the unfinished garments lying in a box on a table before her, “what do you mean?”
“The rent money is gone. I had it in this corner of the bureau, waiting for the agent, whom I expected at any moment. There were two fives and five ones. They are not here now. Where could they have gone?”
“The money may have slipped under some article in the drawer, Mother,” suggested the girl, anxiously.
“No; I have searched and turned over everything. The money is gone. How are we to face this fresh misfortune?”
Mother and daughter looked at one another in silent discouragement.
And well they might feel discouraged since, with the exception of perhaps fifty cents in silver, the missing money had represented their entire capital.
And Jack, the other member of the family, a particularly bright and ambitious boy of sixteen years, had just lost his position, owing to the failure of the firm with whom he had been employed ever since the death of the husband and father, two years before, had thrown them upon their own resources.
During the lifetime of Mr. Hazard, the family had lived in a rented house on a side street in a very respectable neighborhood uptown and had been considered well off.
Jack and Annie had graduated from the public school and were expecting to enter the high school the next term when their father died suddenly, and it was found that Mr. Hazard, who had been a liberal provider, had lived up to his means and, what was more unfortunate, had neglected to insure his life.
Of course, Mrs. Hazard had to move to a cheaper home and neighborhood, for the few dollars she found herself possessed of after the funeral and other necessary expenses had been paid would not keep them for any great length of time.
Jack soon found a position with a wholesale house downtown, at five dollars a week.
Annie, who was naturally quite expert at fine needlework and embroidery, preferred to take in work to do at home than to seek a place in a factory or in a store as a salesgirl because she was not very strong.
But home work was not very remunerative so the family really was dependent upon Jack, who fortunately was strong and healthy.
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 grocers. 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 with 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 that 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 today. 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.
“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.
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