I fully expected to have the money by this evening but found it was impossible----" Her voice wavered for an instant and trailed off weakly as if she had suddenly remembered something and was stunned by the thought. Then she rallied and steadied herself by a fierce grip on the back of a chair.

"I certainly intend you shall be paid, and that very speedily, but I'm sorry to say that I haven't but ten cents in my purse tonight. Perhaps by tomorrow I shall be able to do something--" She gave a frightened helpless look around the room and toward her girls, who stood white and angry beside her, and tried to summon a faint smile as she turned her sweet eyes back toward the furious landlady.

But Mrs. Barkus was not to be appeased.

"So ya think ya can put that over on me, with all the smell o' cookin' meat going through me house. Not on yer life you can't. That's expensive meat, that is, I can tell by the smell--"

She strode suddenly to the door of the kitchenette and peered in, to the table with its meager spread and the glorious beefsteak steaming in the center.

"Yeah? That's jest what I thought. Best cut o' sirloin steak! Ain't we the swell crooks! Beatin' yar way in my house and eatin' off the fat o' the land! Well, I'll jest carry that steak into my own dinin' room and save myself getting any supper of my own. I'll allow fifty cents off on the kindling wood fer that! And she made as if to sweep aside Melissa and make good her words.

But Bob suddenly planted himself in the doorway with his fists doubled.

"Not on yer life ya don't touch that steak. That's my steak. The butcher gave it ta me for goin' on an errand for him. My mother never spent a cent for it."

The angry woman was big enough and mad enough to make short work of Bob, but Phyllis suddenly stood in front of her and spoke quietly.

"Mrs. Barkus, my mother needs that steak. She hasn't had anything to eat all day but a cup of tea just now, and she must eat or she'll die. If there is anything among our things here that you will accept until we can pay what we owe you, you can have it, I'm sure. Can't she, Mother?"

"Of course!" said the strained voice of the mother.

"Well, all righty! How about that gimcrack of a clock?" asked the landlady, fixing floating eyes on the lovely cuckoo clock, the only really valuable bit of furnishing in the whole sordid room. It was a clock that had been sent to Professor Challenger a short time before his illness by a former student in gratitude for all he had done for him, and it had only escaped being in storage now with all their other household goods because it had been forgotten till after the last load had gone to storage.

Mrs. Challenger did some swift thinking.

"Mrs. Barkus," she said, trying to put strength into her voice, "that is a valuable clock that was given to my husband. I can raise money on that tomorrow and pay you what I owe you in case some money does not come in on the early mail. If you will just kindly withdraw and let us eat our dinner and get some rest, I will undertake to see that you are paid by noon tomorrow."

A cunning look came into the woman's eyes.

"Not much ya won't, ya old crook, ya!" she said. "I'll take the clock right now. Valuable, is it? We'll see. I'll take it ta a friend o' mine that keeps a junk shop an' see what it'll bring meself. I'm not waitin' any longer fer my money. Ya promised it this mornin' an' ya promised it this evenin' an' I've no reason ta believe ya'll pay tamorra, neither. I'll just take the clock now." And she walked over and began to reach up for the clock where it hung on the wall.

And suddenly, as if to protect itself, the little bird in the cunningly carved doorway stepped out and said, "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" eight times right in her face.

The woman stepped back, startled, intrigued by the little bird. Indeed, she had had a great desire to own that same bird ever since she had first heard its little song, and like a child, or a small dog, when something unusual happens, she was for the moment turned aside from her purpose to watch the cuckoo.

Nobody had noticed that Bob disappeared, but now suddenly there occurred a diversion, heavy footsteps on the doorstep, the quick opening and slamming of the front door, and a big figure in a white linen apron loomed in the doorway, though everybody was entirely too much occupied to notice.

Mrs. Challenger had just summoned her strength once more to speak.

"Mrs. Barkus, I couldn't let that clock go out of my possession without a receipt from you that you have it and are holding it until I have paid you my back rent," she was saying, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You see, my husband is very fond of that clock."

"Oh, is he?" mimicked Mrs.