“Amazingly lucid,” said the Cat. She was the more to be admired because the language of Domesday Book is not, perhaps, the clearest medium wherein to describe a small but complete electric-light installation, deriving its power from a water-wheel by means of cogs and gearing.
“See for yourself—by all means, see for yourself,” said the Waters, spluttering and choking with mirth.
“Upon my word,” said the Black Rat furiously, “I may be at fault, but I wholly fail to perceive where these offensive eavesdroppers—er—come in. We were discussing a matter that solely affected our Order.”
Suddenly they heard, as they had heard many times before, the Miller shutting off the water. To the rattle and rumble of the labouring stones succeeded thick silence, punctuated with little drops from the stayed wheel. Then some water-bird in the dam fluttered her wings as she slid to her nest, and the plop of a water-rat sounded like the fall of a log in the water.
“It is all over—it always is all over at just this time. Listen, the Miller is going to bed—as usual. Nothing has occurred,” said the Cat.
Something creaked in the house where the pig-styes had stood, as metal engaged on metal with a clink and a burr.
“Shall I turn her on?” cried the Miller.
“Ay,” said the voice from the dynamo-house.
“A human in Mangles’ new house!” the Rat squeaked.
“What of it?” said the Grey Cat. “Even supposing Mr. Mangles’ cats’-meat-coloured hovel ululated with humans, can’t you see for yourself—that—?”