hia. "I didn't know guns kicked. What do
they kick with? They haven't got any legs."

Andy explained as well as he could what he meant by the gun's kicking,
and said it was because it had not been used for a good while, and
needed to be taken out.

"It needs exercise, just like horses, ma'am," he said.

"That is singular, Andrew," said Priscilla.

"Just so," observed her sister.

"It's a fact, ma'am," said Andy. "It gets skittish, just like
horses--but if I take it out sometimes, it'll be all right."

"Very well, you may take it, only be careful."

"Oh, I'll be careful, ma'am," said Andy, with alacrity.

"Now, I'll have some fun," he said to himself.

He found a supply of powder and some shot in the closet, and proceeded
to appropriate them.

"Come back in time for supper, Andrew," said Miss Priscilla.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm always on hand at meal times," answered our hero.

"That's because he's hungry," said Sophia, brilliantly.

"You're right, ma'am," said Andy; "my stomach always tells me when
it's supper time."

"It's as good as a watch," said Priscilla, smiling.

"And a good deal cheaper," observed Sophia, with another brilliant
idea.

Andy started up the road with his gun over his shoulder. It was his
intention after going a little distance to strike into the fields, and
make for some woods not far away, where he thought there would be a
good chance for birds or squirrels. He hadn't gone many steps before
he encountered Godfrey Preston, his antagonist of three days previous.

Now, Godfrey hadn't seen or heard anything of Andy since that day. He
had learned from his mother with great satisfaction that she had
discharged Mrs. Burke from her employment, as this, he imagined, would
trouble Andy. But of Andy himself he knew nothing, and was not aware
that he had already secured a place. When he saw our hero coming
along, his curiosity led him to stop and find out, if he could, where
he was going with the gun he carried on his shoulder, and where he
obtained it. So he looked intently at Andy, waiting for him to speak,
but Andy preferred to leave that to him.

"Whose gun is that?" asked Godfrey, in the tone of one who was
entitled to ask the question.

"Shure, it belongs to the owner," said Andy, with a smile.

"Of course, I know that," said Godfrey, impatiently. "I'm not quite a
fool."

"Not quite," repeated Andy, emphasizing the last word in a way which
made Godfrey color.

"What do you mean?" h