hour simply by turning a faucet. In the laundry
there was an electric pump that kept the tank in the attic filled
automatically. When the level of water in this tank fell to a certain
point, a float operated a switch that started the pump; and when the
water level reached a certain height, the same float stopped the pump.
A small motor, the size of a medium Hubbard squash operated a washing
machine and wringer on wash days. This same motor was a
man-of-all-work for this house, for, when called on, it turned the
separator, ground and polished knives and silverware, spun the sewing
machine, and worked the vacuum cleaner.

Over the dining room table hung the same hanging shade of old days,
but the oil lamp itself was gone. In its place was a 100-watt
tungsten lamp whose rays made the white table cloth fairly glisten.
The wires carrying electricity to this lamp were threaded through the
chains reaching to the ceiling, and one had to look twice to see where
the current came from. In the sitting room, a cluster of electric
bulbs glowed from a fancy wicker work basket that hung from the
ceiling. The housewife had made use of what she had throughout the
house. Old-fashioned candle-shades sat like cocked hats astride
electric bulbs. There is little heat to an electric bulb for the
reason that the white-hot wire that gives the light is made to burn in
high vacuum, which transmits heat very slowly. The housewife had taken
advantage of this fact and from every corner gleamed lights dressed in
fancy designs of tissue paper and silk.

"Now we will talk business," said Perkins when supper was over and
they had lighted their pipes.

The returned native looked dubious. His New England training had
warned him long ago that one cannot expect to get something for
nothing, and he felt sure there was a joker in this affair.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Perkins. "You furnish the water-power with your idle
wheel, and I furnish the electric installation. This is only a small
plant I have put in, but it gives us enough electricity to go around,
with a margin for emergencies. I have taken the liberty of wiring your
house and your horse-barn and cow-barn and your barn-yard. Altogether,
I suppose you have 30 lights about the place, and during these long
winter days you will keep most of them going from 3 to 5 hours a night
and 2 or 3 hours in the early morning. If you were in town, those
lights would cost you about 12