"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.
