“Don’t let it throw you,” Dan said, slapping him on the shoulders. “Breaking a window can happen to anyone.”
“It’s not that,” Chub mumbled, his eyes downcast. “How am I going to pay? I-I don’t have hardly any spending money. And I can’t ask Mrs. Lornsdale to help me. I wish I’d never joined the Cubs! Then I wouldn’t be in this awful mess.”
“Hey, cut out that kind of talk!” Dan said. “You’re not in any mess. It’s not fair either, to blame the Cubs for this. It was just an accident.”
“I didn’t mean that about the Cubs. I’ll get the money somehow.”
“Forget it,” Dan advised. “It was as much my fault as it was yours that the window was smashed. I told you to throw the ball hard, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
“And I was standing in front of the church window, Chub. So it was more my fault than it was yours. I’ll see Old Terry first thing tomorrow and settle for the window.”
“Pay it all, you mean?” Midge asked in surprise.
“Sure,” Dan replied. “I have some money saved. It won’t strap me.”
Though he spoke carelessly, the denner had struggled inwardly before making his generous offer. For weeks he had been hoarding every penny, intending to buy a basketball of his own. Now he’d have to forget about it.