"Nothin’; only I once knew a feller who did that. When he wanted any money he used to take it from the till, and pay it back Saturday nights." "Why, he was just a common thief!" exclaimed Jim scornfully. "I’d rather starve than do that." "Of course you would," said Curly approvingly, "and so would I. Let us be honest if we are poor; that’s my motto. But it’s hard when a chap’s starvin’, you know. Where are you goin’?" "Home," said Jim. "I’m tired." "All right. I’ll pay you that tanner soon. Wouldn’t it be a lark to march into the shop and ask the boss for my friend, Jim Hartland?" "I don’t think you’d better," said Jim. "He mightn’t like it." "What did he say last night, then?" "Oh, well, you see," replied Jim hesitatingly, "I didn’t tell him. And I say, Curly, you’d better give me the sixpence in the street." "All right," replied Curly; "I’ll remember." Then himself he added, "Well, he is a blessed mug, and mistake. One of the regular old-fashioned sort." *CHAPTER XI.* *IS JIM A THIEF?* Three weeks after the conversation recorded in our last chapter, Mr. Broad wished Jim good-night, closed the shop door, and returned to his desk. As a rule he was a cheery, good-humoured man, easy-going, and with an eye for the bright side of things. On this particular evening he appeared moody and unsettled, and quite unable to look through the pile of books which lay on the desk. Presently, leaving his chair, he walked up and down the shop. "I can’t believe it," he said half aloud. "I don’t wish to believe it. The boy has always seemed as honest as the day. I must have made a mistake." And his face brightened. Then it clouded again, and he went on, "Why should I beat about the bush instead of going straight to the point? I know I am not mistaken. Some one stole a florin from the till last night, and Hartland must have been the thief." For some time past Mr. Broad had had a vague suspicion that he was being robbed—not on a large scale, and not regularly; but now and again he fancied a piece of silver or a few coppers disappeared. The incident which converted his suspicion into certainty was this. On the previous night he had left the shop with a friend. Before going, he placed a florin, the price of an article just sold, in the till. On his return the florin was gone, and, according to Jim’s own words, no customer had entered the shop. It was very perplexing, but Mr. Broad did not like to tax the boy with theft, and rather foolishly made no further remark. It was just possible, he told himself, that he only _intended_ to put the florin in the till, but had really slipped it into his pocket. One thing he knew—that after going out he had changed a florin in the town. However, the subject worried him a good deal, especially as, on sober reflection, he felt convinced that the coin had been left in the shop.