"No," replied her sister, scornfully.
There was a silence; Sacharissa, uneasy, bit her underlip and sat looking
at the uncanny machine.
She was a tall girl, prettily formed, one of those girls with long limbs,
narrow, delicate feet and ankles.
That sort of girl, when she also possesses a mass of chestnut hair, a
sweet mouth and gray eyes, is calculated to cause trouble.
And there she sat, one knee crossed over the other, slim foot swinging,
perplexed brows bent slightly inward.
"I can't see any honorable way out of it," she said resolutely. "I said
I'd abide by the blindfolded test."
"When we promised we weren't thinking of ourselves," insisted Ethelinda.
"That doesn't release us," retorted her Puritan sister.
"Why?" demanded Linda. "Suppose, for example, your pencil had marked
William's name! That would have been im--immoral!"
"_Would_ it?" asked Sacharissa, turning her honest, gray eyes on her
brother-in-law.
"I don't believe it would," he said; "I'd only be switched on to Linda's
current again." And he smiled at his wife.
Sacharissa sat thoughtful and serious, swinging her foot.
"Well," she said, at length, "I might as well face it at once. If there's
anything in this instrument we'll all know it pretty soon. Turn on your
receiver, Billy."
"Oh," cried Linda, tearfully, "don't you do it, William!"
"Turn it on," repeated Sacharissa.
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