0<br >It Wasn t My Fault<br >y brief career as a paperboy ended suddenly<br >one Saturday at seven A.M. when Mrs. Crow-<br >ley showed up at my door. She was shaking a<br >soggy newspaper right in front of my face.<br > "Sorry about that ma am，" I said as politely as I<br >could. "Guess I need to work on my side throw."<br > She was even angrier than the last time. Her<br >voice trembled when she spoke.<br > "Once again， Robert，" she said， "you ve man-<br >aged to start my day on a sour note."<br > Well， it wasn t my fault she had a fish pond right<br >in the middle of her front yard.<br > "It won t happen again，" I assured her， forcing a<br >smile.<br > "Well，" she said， "I ll see to it that it doesn t."<br >She threw down the newspaper and stormed<br >away.<br > I knew then that the job was as good as over. I<br >was already on probation for missing two houses<br >last week. Then I came up a little short after col-<br >"