CHAPTER VI.

A FRIGHT FOR TOM.

TOM'S cold was not much better the next morning, but he went to work as usual, for it might be the last chance he would have of putting back the ten shillings that had caused him far more anxiety than any pleasure he might get out of his winnings would ever compensate for. And if he had found that the lad who usually took the desk had returned to his employment, then he would have been in worse trouble than ever.

But fortunately for Tom, a message was brought from the boy's father saying he was still too unwell to come back, and so Tom went to the desk again, and in the course of the day entered the bill he had received a day or two before and put the money back.

It was so great a relief to his mind when this was done, that his companions noticed the difference in him, and one or two asked if he had been paid what he had won on Tittlebrat, and suggested that he ought to stand hot drinks all round when they went out at dinner time, for as he was the only one among them who had made anything out of that race it was only fair that he should do this.

But poor Tom had not a penny he could call his own, although he found it hard to make the others understand this. They badgered him so about his winnings, that in a moment of inadvertence, he let out the fact that he had received ten shillings the previous evening.

"Ten shillings!" shouted one. "Why, that's more than ever I had in my life. What a swell you must be, Flowers! I say, we shall want cake all round, as well as hot drinks out of that. What do you say?" he added, addressing himself to Bob.

If it had been his own case, Bob would have responded heartily enough to the proposal, not only for hot drinks and cake, but some other delicacy into the bargain, and that Tom should not do the same was something beyond comprehension to all of them.

But however willing Tom might have been to stand treat, if he had got the money, he was obliged to shake his head now. "I really can't," he said in a serious tone, trying to push his way through the ring they had formed round him.

"Can't stand us a drink round, and—"

"I'll have clove," shouted one, interrupting the speaker.

"I'll have raspberry," said another.

"Oh, bother raspberry, I'm going to have pineapple," put in another.

"Suppose we walk him off to the shop and order what we like and then he can pay for it," suggested one of the party.

"I won't, though, I can tell you," said Tom, getting angry at being thus baited.

"Look here, you fellows, it ain't fair," put in Bob, when he saw they were going to walk Tom off by main force to the shop. "You leave it to me, and I'll talk it over with Flowers." And he linked his arm in Tom's to walk with him, and this would probably have pacified the rest, but Tom would have nothing to do with any of them now. He regarded Bob as being one of his tormentors, and pushed him aside when he came near him.

But in spite of this rough treatment, he contrived to say, "Look here, Tom, it's the usual thing to stand treat round when one of us gets a slice of luck, like you've got over Tittlebrat. Not that I want it for myself, for I shan't have a chance of returning it, so I won't take it, because I've promised that I'll never have any more to do with betting or gambling of any sort, I got bit so hard over this."

"So have I," interrupted Tom, in a tone of bitterness.

Bob opened his eyes to hear this. "I thought you stood to win a lot of money on Tittlebrat?" he gasped.

"So I did, but I ain't got it yet," replied Tom.

"But—but—I thought you told the fellows just now that you had ten shillings last night?"

"So I did; but I had to pay it away directly, for I had borrowed it."

Bob uttered a low whistle. "Borrowed it," he repeated. "My, suppose you had lost?" And he fixed his eyes on Tom as he spoke.

"Oh, but I knew I shouldn't lose; I had a sure tip about that, or I wouldn't have done it."

"Who lent you the money—your aunt?"

"My aunt? Catch her at it. No, no, they know nothing about it at home. My friend Jack managed it all for me."

"And gave you the tip, too?" asked Bob. At that moment he felt sorely tempted again, but he bravely told of the promise he had given his mother. "It was the shawl that did it," he explained, and then he told Tom how he had risked every penny he could scrape together on the favourite horse and lost it all.

"It was a pity," said Tom, thinking of Dick's gloves when Bob spoke of his mother's shawl.

"Yes, and I was in a fright when I had to tell mother where the money had gone. But still, it might have been worse, for if I had borrowed money as you did, and lost that, I should have been in a worse fix, and you might be in that hole now, you know, Tom."

Tom turned deadly pale at the suggestion. "Yes, I might," he said. But it was not a pleasant subject to think of, and so he contrived to turn the conversation, and when he had an opportunity turned back to the warehouse for the rest of the dinner hour, instead of going on with the rest of his companions.

He took care to avoid Bob when they went home, for fear he should say any more about the borrowed money. The very mention of it put him into a fright, especially since he had told him that he had not got it from his aunt or uncle.

As soon as he got indoors, his aunt told him that his uncle had left word that he was going to bring the gloves home with him, and he was to write the letter to send with them before he went to bed.

"Very well, aunt," said Tom, trying to speak indifferently, but really wishing he had never heard of the gloves, for he had no money to pay for them, and unless he met Jack that night and got some from him, he would have to tell his uncle that the shilling he had the week before had gone now; and what his aunt would say he hardly cared to think.

So as soon as he had finished his tea, he slipped out without saying a word to his aunt, and she did not know he had gone, until she called him down to begin his letter, when finding he did not answer, she went to see if he had gone to bed, and then found out, that he must have gone out, as the room was empty.

Meanwhile Tom had gone to look for his friend Jack, in the hope of obtaining at least a part of the money he had won on the race.

But although he met his friend a few minutes after he reached the corner of the street, Jack appeared to be greatly surprised that he should want more money from him so soon. "What can you be in such a hurry about? Are you afraid I shall run away?" he said petulantly. "I told you last night it was impossible to get it all in a minute. I gave you ten shillings; how much more do you want?"

"Why, I want my share, of course," replied Tom, whose temper had not been improved by what he had put up with from his companions at the warehouse. "You talk about giving me ten shillings, you only gave me five."

"You're a liar, I gave you ten," said Jack.

"Yes, but you owed me five of it, so that I have only had five of my share," retorted Tom, in the same angry tone.

"And what about my commission? You always seem to forget that."

"You don't, though. What do you mean about commission? Didn't I give you a shilling for telling me about Tittlebrat? How much more do you want?" asked Tom.

"Why, my commission, to be sure. Do you think bookmakers can live on air, or that they have good berths among City swells?"

"Well, then, we will cry quits about the five shillings I lent you, although you never said anything about it when you had it, and I thought you meant to pay me back."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Jack, in a more angry tone. "Didn't I tell you yesterday that I wanted my commission?"

"And I say you can have it out of the ten shillings. I say we cry quits, and when you've paid me up the rest of the money you owe me, I'll never have any more to do with racing and betting as long as I live."

"Don't be a fool, Tom," said the other, in a changed tone. "You shall have your money right enough, and I'll make you a present of what I usually charge for commission. Suppose we go into the music-hall just below here, and there we can settle up?"

"Can't we do it here?" said Tom sulkily. "I want to get back and write a letter before I go to bed."

"Oh, blow the letter, that can wait. We've never been to a music-hall, and it would be a shame not to go to-night."

"Oh, very well, then, we'll go," said Tom, who would have been ready to go anywhere for the chance of getting some money just then.

So they went to the brilliantly-lighted hall, and it was not wonderful that the country lad should be so dazzled with the music and singing, and all that went on, as to well-nigh forget the special object for which they had come. His companion hoped he would altogether forget it, and when an hour had passed and Tom was still listening in rapt admiration to the music, his companion thought he might safely slip out and leave Tom to go home by himself.

But Tom was on the alert as soon as Jack rose from his seat, and rose too. "Are you going now?" he asked. "Let's have our settlement first," he added, "or there will be no end of a row over those gloves I told you about."

"Oh, bother the gloves," muttered Jack as he sat down again. "You're a sharper, Tom," he added, by way of flattering Tom, for he had no intention of letting him slip through his fingers without making a little more profit out of him, and to do this in the future it would be better to let him have some of the money that had been won by means of the ten shillings. So as they sat down again, he pulled a handful of silver out of his pocket. "Will a pound do for to-night?" he asked, in a tone of grand indifference, as though pounds were as plentiful as blackberries in autumn.

Tom's eyes sparkled at the sight of so much money. "Yes, that will do," he said in a tone of eagerness, thankful for the chance of getting it.

But he soon found it was not all to be his.

"You'll stand treat for to-night's expenses, of course," said Jack, counting fifteen shillings into his hand.

Tom counted, too, and looked a little surprised when his friend put the rest of the money back into his pocket. "I thought you said I was to have a pound off my account?" he ventured to say.

"And haven't you got it?" demanded Jack, with a frown.

"No, there's only fifteen shillings here," replied Tom.

"And didn't you agree to stand treat for to-night?" demanded the other. "I've done it a good many times for you," he added.

"But—but—you only paid two shillings to come in," said Tom.

"And what about the drinks we have had?" asked Jack, who had been drinking gin-and-water pretty freely all the evening.

"I only had a bottle of ginger-beer," replied Tom.

"Well? And I told you I didn't like ginger-beer, and didn't you say I was to have what I liked? I tell you, Tom, you don't know how to behave like a gentleman," concluded Jack in a tone of contempt.

"Oh, well, if it's all right I don't mind," said Tom, thinking he had better make the best of it.

"Are you coming now?" he added, as he put the money into his pocket.

Jack shook his head. "Sit down again, Tom," he said. "What's your hurry, it ain't ten o'clock yet."

"But I must go or I shall get into no end of a row at home, for aunt told me not to go out till I had written that letter."

"Ah! Petticoat government, I understand," said Jack, in a tone meant to be facetious.

"When will you have the rest ready for me?" asked Tom, lingering a minute to lean over Jack's seat.

"Oh, very soon, my boy, very soon; we are good friends, you and I, Tom. I won't hurt you, never fear," he added in a maudlin tone.

"All right," answered Tom. "Good-night." And then he made his way out of the hall and ran home as fast as he could.

With all that money in his pocket he was not afraid to face his aunt and uncle, even though he had not written the letter. But it would not do, he thought, to let them see he had so much money, for they would be sure to ask inconvenient questions.

So before he went indoors, he tied up most of the money in the corner of his pocket-handkerchief, and only put the eighteenpence he wanted for his uncle into his purse.

As he expected, he was met with a storm of reproaches from his aunt, because he had not done as he had been told, but his uncle came in while his aunt was scolding and he soon put an end to it.

"There will be time enough to-morrow," he said, "only it must not be left later, if Dick is to have the gloves for Christmas. What money have you got towards them now, my lad?" he asked, as he pulled a small parcel out of his pocket.

"All of it, uncle," said Tom in a tone of triumph, producing his purse and laying the money down upon the table.

"Halloo! This ain't the shilling I gave you for the halfpence the other day," said his uncle, picking up the one he had laid down, and looking at it curiously.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Flowers, putting down her work and leaning over the table.

"Why, look at this queer mark in it; I am sure if the one Tom had from me the other day had been marked like this, I must have noticed it." And his uncle turned the shilling about under the lamplight as though he would look through it as well as outside it.

His aunt turned her eyes from the shilling to glance at Tom, and he coloured up under her gaze. "I—I lent that shilling to a boy, uncle," he stammered, "and he paid me to-night. That was why I had to go out."

"What boy did you lend it to?" asked his uncle, still turning the shilling about in his fingers.

"The boy I told you about a little time ago—Jack."

"Jack what?" asked his aunt.

"Hasn't he got another name?" put in his uncle, finding Tom did not answer this question.

"Yes, he has, I expect, but I don't know it," answered Tom, in a sullen tone, and darting an angry glance at his aunt.

"You mean to tell me you lent a boy a shilling and don't even know what his name is?" said his uncle severely, putting the money down on the table to turn and look at Tom.

Tom could answer this question truthfully enough, and he said without a quiver in his voice, "Yes, uncle, he told me his name was Jack, and I told him my name was Tom Flowers, but I don't think he ever said what his other name was."

"And you never asked him?" said his aunt, in an incredulous tone.

"I think I asked him once, but he didn't hear what I said, I suppose, for he said something else, and I never asked him again."

"Well, it's a very strange story," said his aunt, suspiciously. She had never had children of her own, and knew nothing of the ways of boys, or she might not have been so surprised at this.

Her husband was not. But the mark on that shilling troubled him, and instead of putting it loose in his pocket, he put it into his purse to take care of it, in case any more should be heard of it.

Tom went to bed uncomfortable enough, for he had no such confidence in Jack as to feel reassured about the matter, and so there was another night of hideous dreams for him.

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