"Well," said the mill-owner, laughing, "the whistle is my own. It's the
sort of thing I would propose--to blow my trumpet, as it were; but the
electricity and the first experiments in it I owe to The Padre."

"As I thought," she said, and turned to Roscoe. "I remember," she added,
"that you had an electrical search-light on the 'Porcupine', and that you
were fond of electricity. Do you ever use search-lights here? I should
think they might be of use in your parish. Then, for a change, you could
let the parish turn it upon you, for the sake of contrast and
edification."

For the moment I was exceedingly angry. Her sarcasm was well veiled,
but I could feel the sardonic touch beneath the smiling surface. This
innuendo seemed so gratuitous. I said to her, almost beneath my breath,
that none of the others could hear: "How womanly!"

She did no more than lift her eyebrows in acknowledgment, and went on
talking lightly to Mr. Devlin. Roscoe was cool, but I could see now in
his eyes a kind of smouldering anger; which was quite to my wish.
I hoped he would be meek no longer.

Presently Ruth Devlin said: "Would it not be better to wait till to-
night, when the place is lighted, before the whistle is blown? Then you
can get a better first impression. And if Mrs. Falchion will come over
to our home at Sunburst, we will try and amuse her for the rest of the
day--that is, after she has seen all here."

Mrs. Falchion seemed struck by the frankness of the girl, and for an
instant debated, but presently said: "No, thank you. When all is seen