CHAPTER IV.
IN TROUBLE.
When Tom returned home that night, he had not only the old gentleman's shilling unbroken in his pocket, but three pennies which had been given to him since then, and which jingled and made a very nice sound against the shilling. But though this was a pleasant state of affairs, there was nothing pleasant in poor little Tom's face; its bright look had left it, it was white and drawn, and he limped along in evident pain and difficulty. The fact was, Tom had fallen in the snow, and had sprained his ankle very badly. When he entered the house his pain was so great that he could scarcely hobble upstairs.
On the first landing he was greeted by the rough, rude tones of Pat Finnahan, who stopped him with a loud exclamation, then shouted to his mother that Tom had arrived.
Mrs. Finnahan was Tom's Irish landlady, but as he did not owe her any rent he was not afraid of her.
She called to him now, however, and he stood still to listen to what she had to say.
"Ah, then, wisha, Tom, and when am I to see me own agen?" she demanded, with a very strong Irish brogue.
"Wot does yer mean?" asked Tom, staring at her. "I pays my rent reg'lar. I owes yer nothink."
"Oh, glory!" said Mrs. Finnahan, throwing up her hands, "the boy have the imperence to ax me to my face what I manes. I manes the shilling as I lent to yer mother, young man, and that I wants back agen; that's what I manes."
At these words Tom felt himself turning very pale. He remembered perfectly how, in a moment of generosity, Mrs. Finnahan had once lent his mother a shilling, but he was quite under the impression that it had been paid back some time ago.