"Will you smell it please--just the end of it--the muzzle. What do you
smell?"
Mrs. Challoner smiled faintly.
"A Fourth of July smell," she ventured; "gunpowder, of course."
"Burnt powder, exactly, ma'am," they said, and smiled, too. But McGrath
had still another card to play.
"Look at this here figure on this here gun, will you, ma'am? Here--there
it is. I want you to tell me what it is."
"What is it, Shirley?" asked Miriam, bringing it closer to the light.
Shirley shook her head.
"I'd rather not."
"Please," asked Mrs. Challoner.