"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.