“Go along, Samuel, not so much as that. Well, miss, us knowed each other when Samuel was a desperate wicked (i.e. lively) chap. Then Samuel was keeper at the park. There was some misunderstanding. The head-keeper was to blame and laid it on Samuel. He’s told me so scores o’ times. Then came his first accident. When was that, Samuel?”
“When I shooted my hand away? Nineteen years come next Michaelmas.”
“Were you keeper, then?” asked Arminell.
“No, miss, not exactly.”
“Then, how came you with the gun?”
“By accident, quite by accident.”
Joan hastily interfered. It would not do to enquire too closely what he was doing on that occasion.
“When was your second accident, Samuel?”
“Fifteen years agone.”
“And what was that?” asked Joan.