“This afternoon.”
“And since then?”
“I’ve been thinking it over—fighting it out with myself, sir.”
Mr. Parker rose and crossed the room. He picked up the gun, threw open the breach, peered into the barrels.
“You fired only once?”
“Only once, sir. Here’s the empty cartridge.” Sam took the shell from his pocket.
Mr. Parker put the gun in its place, and went back to his chair. There was a little pause; then said he:
“You had your mother’s permission, did you, to take that gun?”
“No, sir,” said Sam.
“Or to go hunting?”