"Let me go and call Mr. Boyd," Jack said. "He will tell me where my mother is. Let him be a witness of what you say, and what charge you have against me."
Jack now looked across the row for the first time, and saw a young man standing at the door of the little stuffy shop, which, unlike its opposite neighbour, had grown smarter, and had a lot of ships' lanterns hanging over the door, and showy aneroids and compasses in the window.
"Where's Mr. Boyd? Where's little Joy's Uncle Bobo?"
"Gone! He has sold the business; he is gone right away."
"Gone! And where's Joy—little Miss Joy? I tell you I will know. And where is my mother?"
"Look here, youngster! This matter must be cleared up. You'll not be let off so easy; but if you confess, well—we shan't be hard on you."
"Confess what?" Jack shouted now. He was getting very angry, and repeated, "Confess what?"
"Oh, that's all very fine! Perhaps you've forgotten you ran away and broke your poor mother's heart, and took my little cash-box with you with four pounds odd money in it," said his aunt.
"It's convenient to forget. You'd better not try to fool me," said Mr. Skinner. "Your aunt's key of that drawer was in her little key-basket. You slily took it out, and when the house was quiet, opened the drawer and put the box in your pocket I see!"
Jack's face grew crimson. He felt very much inclined to fly at Mr. Skinner's throat, and pummel him well with his strong young fist. But the vision of his mother and little Miss Joy rose before him, and with a desperate effort he controlled himself.