While the man was wrapping up the card, Tom was turning out his pockets. There was a ball of string, sundry ends of blacklead-pencil, his empty purse, but the pocket-handkerchief in which the whole of his wealth was tied up in one corner was not to be found.
"What is it?" asked the man, after waiting for a minute or two, while Tom searched through another pocket.
"I have lost my money," gasped Tom.
The man came round the counter to look on the floor, thinking he had just dropped it. And Tom himself gazed round the shop in the hope of seeing the familiar red handkerchief, for it seemed impossible that it could have vanished since dinner time.
He tried to recollect whether he had taken it out since he had counted over his treasure during the dinner hour, but he could not remember doing so. He did not go out for a walk to-day, for fear Randall and the rest of them should set upon him again to treat them to hot drinks and cakes, for Tom had no notion of spending this money on anyone but himself. He had enjoyed his visit to the music-hall, and meant to go again with Jack, when this fuss about the marked shilling had blown over a little.
He had thought of all this as he counted the money over at dinner time, and to think that the whole of it had vanished, and with it all chance of going to see the splendours of the place again was very hard.
"Was it sixpence or a shilling that you dropped?" asked the man, as he searched among the toys and walking-sticks that stood about on the floor.
"I had it all tied up in my handkerchief," replied Tom.
"Tied in a handkerchief," repeated the man; "then you can't have lost it here, you must have dropped it before you came into the shop, or else somebody took it out of your pocket for you."
But Tom shook his head to this suggestion. If he had walked home with Bob Ronan, he would have thought this had been done, for Bob might do it for a joke just to frighten him, but Bob had left him while he was putting on his overcoat, and he had not seen him since.