down again beside him, and she did not take the gun he was holding up
invitingly to her. She put her hands behind her and stood accusingly
before him with the look upon her face which never failed to make
sundry small Beckmans and Pilgreens squirm on their benches when she
assumed it in school.

"Mr. Davidson"--not Weary Davidson, as she was wont to call him--"you
have killed my pet gopher. All summer I have fed him, and he would eat
out of my hand."

Weary cast a jealous eye upon the limp, little animal, searched his
heart for remorse and found none. Ornery little brute, to get familiar
with _his_ schoolma'am!

"I did not think you could be so wantonly cruel, and I am astonished
and--and deeply pained to discover that fatal flaw in your character."

Weary began to squirm, after the manner of delinquent Beckmans and
Pilgreens. One thing he had learned: When the schoolma'am rose to
irreproachable English, there was trouble a-brew. It was a sign he had
never known to fail.

"I cannot understand the depraved instinct which prompts a man brutally
to destroy a life he cannot restore, and which in no way menaces his
own--or even interferes with his comfort. You may apologize to me; you
may even be sincerely repentant"--the schoolma'am's tone at this point
implied considerable doubt--"but you are powerless to return the life
you have so heedlessly taken. You have revealed a low, brutal trait
which I had hoped your nature could not harbor, and I am--am deeply
shocked and--and grieved."