“I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to buy them.”
“You needn’t pay cash. You can have them charged on your term bill.”
“I can’t afford it, anyway.”
Bartlett looked at him perplexed, unable to see why a fellow could not afford to have a thing charged on his term bill—for his father to pay.
Wallace spoke up. “Maybe you could wear an old pair of mine,” he said. “What’s your size?”
“Eight, I think.”
“So is mine. I’ll see if I can’t fit you out.”
“Thanks. I guess, though, I can run in these.”
“No, you can’t,” Bartlett said. “It will be mighty decent of you to lend him your extra pair, Wallace.”
Half an hour later David entered the basement of the study and went to the locker room to hang up his sweater. Returning, he passed the open door of the room in which athletic supplies were kept for sale and saw Wallace trying on a pair of shoes; a second glance showed David that they were running shoes. He flushed with instant understanding, and without letting Wallace know of his presence he went upstairs.