In five minutes Bert found himself standing in front of a rather shabby three-story house, in a decent, but not fashionable, street. The name Stubbs was on the door.
Bert rang the bell, and inquired for Mrs. Stubbs.
He was ushered into a small reception room on one side of the front door, furnished in cheap, boarding-house style, and took a seat on a stiff-backed cane chair.
Presently a thin lady, with cork-screw curls, and a pale, washed-out complexion, entered the room.
"Did you wish to see me, sir?" she said.
"Yes," answered Bert. "You answered an advertisement about Ralph Harding. I come from New York."
"Have you brought my money?" asked Mrs. Stubbs, with animation.
"What money do you refer to?"
"Mr. Harding's board bill. I sent it in the letter."
"We don't feel called upon to pay Mr. Harding's debts," returned Bert, who had been instructed by Uncle Jacob to say this.