The reloaded gun was handed to her, and she raised it, lowered it, and raised it again and again to try the balance and weight.
“It comes up very nicely,” she said, balancing it in her hands.
“It is really one of our best make, my lady,” said the gunmaker.
“But my young friend does not seem to find that it shoots straight. Now then.”
She raised it quickly to her shoulder, glanced for a brief instant along the barrel, and the white mark at the end of the gallery was speckled like a currant dumpling, while the gunmaker smiled with satisfaction.
“It was my fault,” said Nic dolefully. “I suppose I can’t see straight.”
“Perhaps not,” said Lady O’Hara drily. “How many times have you fired before?”
“Never till to-day, only little brass cannons,” said Nic.
“And they’re poor things for educating the hand and eye,” said the lady. “Shooting looks easy, Dominic. You think you have only to pull the trigger; but it’s like other things, my boy, it wants learning.”
They walked back into the shop, where the guns and rifles selected were ordered to be packed with an ample supply of the best flints and ammunition in proper cases for the journey; and the gunmaker smiled his thanks, and wished for more masculine lady customers.