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.