"Thanks," but her usually sunny smile was strained. "And I suppose you
still work all night, Dad, disobeying Dr. McLane's orders."

"I don't take orders from McLane," shortly. "And I didn't work very late
last night. Your mother came up and tried some of her Sisters in Unity
persuasion upon me, and I capitulated."

Mrs. Whitney did not take the jest in good part. While she reveled in
society, she was essentially a clubwoman, and nothing delighted her so
much as debating and delivering addresses. She was a capital
extemporaneous speaker, and had held prominent offices in different
clubs. Possessing no sense of humor, which her husband and Kathleen had
in abundance, she seriously objected to their poking fun at her beloved
organization, the Sisters in Unity, of which she was a charter member.
Any allusion to it in fun she considered an offense in good taste.
Therefore withdrawing into dignified silence she permitted Whitney and
Kathleen to keep up the conversation. In fact, Whitney did most of the
talking, and neither he nor his wife perceived Kathleen's inattention.

"I'm on the high road to solving the last problem," he exulted. "The
invention is simple, so very simple, but, Minna, it will revolutionize
many things in warfare. You won't be ashamed of your old Dad, Kathleen,
when the world acknowledges what I've done."

"I'm proud of you now, and always have been," affirmed Kathleen, and
leaning over she placed a spray of lilies-of-the-valley from her bouquet
in his buttonhole.

"Who sent you the flowers, Kathleen?" inquired Mrs. Whitney.