“In years, maybe,” said Tom, “but in experience, Sam!” Tom shook his head knowingly. “It’s experience that counts, my boy.”
“You’re a chump,” said Sam. “Mind if I take this, though?”
“Not a bit. Let me know in the morning, Sam. Joking aside, I think it would be a first-rate thing. You’d come back in September simply full of health and able to lick your weight in bear-cats. We’ll miss you, though, if we get the ball team together again. Who could we get to catch for us, Sam?”
“Buster Healey.”
“That’s so, he might do. Anything else I can sell you, Sam?”
“No, I guess not. Did I pay you for this?”
“Not yet. You needn’t if you don’t want to. Let me charge it to you.”
“No, thanks,” said Sam hurriedly, diving for his money. “If I get that place I’ll need this mitt, I guess. I’ve been trying to persuade myself all the morning that I really ought to have it.”
“Another reason for accepting the job, Sam,” said Tom cheerfully. “It’ll justify your extravagance.”
“That’s putting ’em over,” said Sam, with a chuckle. “‘Justify your extravagance!’ Gee, Tom, that’s real language, that is!”