Something happened a couple of weeks ago which was a real test of my honesty. I was with some friends playing baseball in one street of my towns. There is a statue in the street and, to cut a long story short, I broke the statue’s head with the football ball. We felt bad about the accident and we felt wrose when one of the policemans appeared.
‘Who broke the statue, lads?’ he asked. ‘Did you see anything?’ We looked at each other guiltily, then my friend spoke.
‘I’m not sure what happened,’ he said. He wasn’t exactly telling the truth and I knew that I had to say something.
‘The ball hit the statue,’ I said. ‘It was me who broke it.’ Surprisingly, the policeman didn’t look too upset. ‘Well, I’m gland that you admitted it,’ he said, ‘because I knew it was you. I saw you.’
In the end, nothing happened about the statue. The policeman was very good about it and it was an accident after all. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but at least I felt that I’d done the right thing.
