Excerpt: ""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 expect 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."

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