"Never mind; we will have that mended to-morrow."
"Were you afraid, Andrew?" asked Miss Sophia.
"Not a bit," answered Andy, valiantly. "I ain't afraid of burglars, as long as I have a gun. I'm a match for 'em."
"How brave he is!" exclaimed the timid lady. "We might have been killed in our beds. I'm glad we hired him, Priscilla."
"As there is nothing more to do, we had better go to bed."
"Just so."
"That's a bully way to get out of a scrape," said Andy to himself, as the ladies filed out of his chamber. "I expected they'd scold me. Plague take the old gun—it kicks as bad as a mule. Oh, Andy, you're a lucky boy to get off so well."
The next day Andy obtained permission to take out the gun in the afternoon when his chores were done.
"I want to get used to it, ma'am," he said. "It kicked last night."
"Dear me, did it?" asked Sophia. "I didn't know guns kicked. What do they kick with? They haven't got any legs."