“I have seen,” she said to Mr. Devlin, “all sorts of enterprises, but never anything like this. It all has a kind of rough music. It is enjoyable.”
Mr. Devlin beamed. “I have just added something to the mill that will please you,” he said.
She looked interested. We all gathered round. I stood between Mrs. Falchion and Ruth Devlin, and Roscoe beside Justine Caron.
“It is the greatest mill-whistle in the country,” he continued. “It will be heard from twelve to twenty-five miles, according to the condition of the atmosphere. I want big things all round, and this is a masterpiece, I guess. Now, I’ll let you hear it if you like. I didn’t expect to use it until to-night at nine o’clock, when, also for the first time, I am to light the mills by electricity; a thing that’s not been attempted yet in any saw-mill on the Continent. We’re going to work night and day for a couple of months.”
“This is all very wonderful. And are you indebted to Mr. Roscoe in these things too?--Everybody seems to need him here.”
“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.”