Jim felt that he was in a desperate situation, and he doubted if even the truth would save him now. Mr. Broad might believe the story—his friend certainly would not—but, after all, it would throw no real light on the mystery.
"Well," said his master, "are you going to confess that you took this sixpence from the till?"
"No," said Jim, "because it wouldn't be true."
"Good boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farrant sarcastically; "always stick to the truth!"
By this time even Mr. Broad was inclined to lose patience; but, controlling his temper, he said, "Perhaps you will tell me how it came to be in your possession?"
"I'll tell you all about it as far as I know, though I'm afraid it won't do much good. Some weeks ago I lent a boy sixpence. His name is Peters. This evening, while you were away, he called me to the door. He came to pay back the money he had borrowed, because I had asked him for it several times."
"Did he come into the shop?" interrupted Mr. Farrant sharply.
"No; we both stood talking outside. He took the sixpence from his pocket"—Jim was scarcely correct in this—"but we were so full of our talk that he forgot to give it to me. However, he ran back with it directly he remembered, and I put it in my pocket."
"Any one with him?" asked Mr. Farrant, who was drumming softly on the counter, and smiling at what he called a cock-and-bull story.
"No," answered Jim confidently; "he was by himself."