Mr. Hatfield assured the Cubs that he believed their story that only one window had been broken.
“I’m driving out to the church now to see for myself how much damage has been done,” he announced. “Who wants to ride along?”
Because it was nearing the dinner hour, only Brad, Dan, Fred and Chips elected to go.
The sun was riding low in the sky by the time the automobile reached the church grounds. Mr. Hatfield parked along the main road, and the boys walked up the broken front walk.
“Twenty thousand, of course, is a ridiculous figure to demand,” Mr. Hatfield remarked, following the Cubs. “I doubt the property is worth much more than that, including the land. The trustees have been trying to sell it for nearly two years, and haven’t yet found a buyer.”
“So they’re taking it out on us!” Chips said resentfully.
The walk curved and the Cubs obtained a clear view of the old building. Dan, slightly ahead of the others, halted abruptly, dismayed by what he saw.
Not one, but half a dozen small windows had been smashed. The rainbow-hued glass of a circular, stained window had been broken too.
“Someone else did that!” he exclaimed. “No wonder the trustees are sore!”
“It’s unfair to blame the Cubs,” Chips declared.