CHAPTER XIII
Before she had finished her writing Wayne and Worth came up on the porch.
The little boy had been over at the shops with his father.
"Father," he was saying, imagination under the stimulus of things he had been seeing, "I suppose our g*n will kill 'bout forty thousand million folks—won't it, father?"
"Why no, son, I hope it's not going to be such a beastly g*n as that," laughed Captain Jones.
"Yes, but, father, isn't a good g*n a g*n that kills folks? What's the use making a g*n at all if it isn't going to kill folks?"
His father looked at him strangely. "Sonny," he said, "you're hitting home rather hard."
"Your reasoning is poor, Worth," said Katie; "fact is we make guns to keep folks from getting killed. If we didn't have the guns everybody would get killed. Now don't
