George. That's what I said.
Bobbie. Sure I will, but it's a lot of money to give for it.
George. That's all right. It's my bargain. Do you agree?
Bobbie. Yes, I agree.
George. All right, and I'll take the hat. (Bobbie hands it over, puzzled, and takes the bill George offers him.)
George (stuffing hat in his pocket). And now this gun is mine. You understand, you've sold it to me?
Bobbie. Yes.
George. All right then! (With an intent gaze fixed on Bobbie, he snaps it across his knee—tosses the two pieces aside.)
Bobbie. Uncle George, my gun!
George. No, my gun. I bought it.
Bobbie (puzzled). Yes...
George (hands on Bobbie's shoulders). Listen here, kid. You wouldn't understand much of what I could say to you. But I want you to remember this day. The day your Uncle George came home from war. I want you to remember it when you are a big boy—a man—like me. When they begin to talk to you maybe about another war and glory and honor and all that, I want you to remember that there was a war back here when you were just a kid, and that your
