“So do I: as sore all over as sore.”
“Tchah! I don’t mean that kind of beating: beaten when I meant to win and sail right into the cove in front of the caves. I say, it wasn’t worth taking old Joe’s boat for and making a hole in the bottom.”
“No; and we haven’t said a single word about it yet.”
“Felt too tired. I don’t care. He’ll kick up a row, and say there’s ten times as much damage done to it as there really is, and it’s next to nothing. Five shillings would more than pay for it. I’ll pay part: I’ve got two-and-fourpence-halfpenny at home; but it’s a bother, for I wanted to send and buy some more fishing tackle. Mine’s getting very old.”
“Well, I’ll pay all,” said Mike. “I’ve got six shillings saved up.”
“No, that won’t be fair,” said Vince; “I want to pay as near half as I can.”
“Well, but you want to buy some hooks and lines, and I shall use those as much as I like.”
“Of course,” said Vince, as Mike followed his example and let himself sink back on the soft turf, to lie gazing up at the blue sky overhead; “but it won’t be the same. I helped poke the hole in the boat, and I mean to pay half. I tell you what: we’ll pay for the damage together, and then you’ll have enough left to pay for the fishing lines, and I can use them.”
“Well, won’t that be just the same?”
“No; of course not,” said Vince. “The lines will be yours, and you won’t be able to bounce about, some day when you’re in an ill-temper, and say you were obliged to pay for mending the boat.”