"Yes sir," said Jimmy in a voice that was thick with tears of frustration
close to the surface. He turned away and left.

Jake was still in the outside office of the Yard when Jimmy returned. The
boy was crestfallen, frustrated, unhappy, and would not have returned at
all if there had been another place where he was welcome. He expected
ridicule from Jake, but Jake smiled.

"No luck, kid?"

Jimmy just shook his head.

"Checks are tough, Jimmy. Give up, now?"

"No!"

"No? What then?"

"I can write a letter and sign it," said Jimmy, explaining how he had
outfoxed the ticket seller.

"Won't work with checks, Jimmy. For me now, if I was to be polite and
dressed right they might cash a twenty if I showed up with my social
security card, driver's license, identification card with photograph
sealed in, and all that junk. But a kid hasn't got a chance. Look, Jimmy,
I'm sorry for this morning. To-morrow morning we'll go over to my bank
and I'll have them cash it for you. It's yours. You earned it and you
keep it. Okay? Are we friends again?"