"With that gun," cried his uncle, without looking up from his writing.
"My darling!" Granny exclaimed, somewhat dismayed at this bloodthirsty ambition. "But you should not wish to hurt anyone; no, no one at all."
"Only wicked men, and only in the legs, so they couldn't run away from the people who catched them," he said comfortingly. "And I'm going to do it with this gun Uncle Godfrey gave me. Isn't it a beufferfull gun?" he went on proudly.
"Yes, yes, I saw it," she answered, taking it out of his hands. "A very nice little gun indeed, my pet."
"Oh, my Granny, take care!" he cried suddenly, in a loud, warning voice.
"Why what is the matter?" asked the old lady starting, and in her alarm almost dropping the gun as she spoke. "What is it?" she repeated in a flurried manner, turning round vaguely as she spoke.
"You mustn't hold the gun like that, my Granny," Chris said more calmly, but still gravely; "it's very dan-ger-rus, and it's not sport-man-like."
"Thank you, my darling," she said simply. "Granny will remember another time."
"Shut up, Chris," said Uncle Godfrey laughing, "and don't talk nonsense."
"Well, I want somebody to play with me," he said inconsequently, as he returned to his Uncle's side. "I want someone to play with me very badly."