Promptly at the appointed time, Copernicus Droopmight have been seen approaching the white cottage. Still nursing a faint hope, he walked with nervous rapidity, mumbling and gesticulating in his excitement. He attracted but little attention. His erratic movements were credited to his usual potations, and no one whom he passed even gave him a second glance.
Nearing the house he saw Phœbe leaning out of one of the second-story windows. She had been gazing westward toward Burnham's swamp, but she caught sight of Droop and nodded brightly to him. Then she drew in her head and pulled down the window.
Phœbe opened the door as Copernicus entered the garden gate, and it was at once apparent that her buoyant mood was still upon her, for she actually offered her hand to her visitor as he stood at the threshold wiping his feet.
"Good mornin'," she said. "I've ben tryin' to see if I could find the Panchronicon out of my window. It's just wonderful how well it's hidden in the bushes."
She led him to the parlor and offered him a seat.
"Where's Cousin Rebecca?" he said, as he carefully placed his hat on the floor beside his chair.
Phœbe seated herself opposite to her visitor with her back to the windows, so that her face was in shadow.
"Rebecca's upstairs," she replied.
Then, after a moment's pause: "She's packin' up," she said.
Droop straightened up excitedly.
"What—packin'!" he cried. "Hev ye decided ye'll go, then?"
"Well," said Phœbe, slowly, "we have an'—an' we haven't."
"What d'ye mean?"
"Why, Mr. Droop, it's just like this," she exclaimed, leaning forward confidentially. "Ye see, Rebecca an' I are both just plumb crazy to try that wonderful plan of cuttin' meridians at the North Pole—an' we're wild fer a ride on that queer kind of a boat or whatever ye call it. At the same time, Rebecca has to acknowledge that it's askin' too much of me to go back to two years old an' live like a baby. For one thing, I wouldn't have a thing to wear."
"But ye might make some clothes before ye start," Droop suggested.
"Mr. Droop!" Phœbe exclaimed, severely, "whatdoyou s'pose folks would say if Rebecca and I was to set to work makin' baby clothes—two old maids like us?"
Droop looked down in confusion and plucked at the edge of his coat.
"Phœbe Wise, you're only just tryin' to be smart fer argument!"
This sentence was delivered with a suddenness which was startling. Droop looked up with a jump to find Rebecca standing at the door with a pile of clean sheets on her arm.
She was gazing sternly at Phœbe, who appeared somewhat disconcerted.
"You know's well's I do," continued the elder sister, "that every one o' your baby clothes is folded an' put away as good as new in the attic."
Phœbe rallied quickly and repelled this attack with spirit.
"Well, I don't care. They'll stay right where they are, Rebecca," she answered, with irritation. "You know we settled it last night that I wasn't to be pestered about goin' back to 1876!"
"That's true," was the reply, "but don't you be givin' such fool reasons for it. It's really just because you're afraid o' bein' whipped an' put to bed—an' goodness knows, you deserve it!"
With this, Rebecca turned grimly and went into the garden to hang the sheets up for an airing.
There was a moment's awkward pause, and then Phœbe broke the silence.
"Our plan's this, Mr. Droop," she said, "an' I hope you'll agree. We want to have you take us to the North Pole and unwind about six years. That'lltake us back before the World's Fair in Chicago, when I was eighteen years old, an' we can see fer ourselves how it feels to be livin' backward an' growin' younger instead of older every minute."
"But what's the good of that?" Droop asked, querulously. "I ain't goin' to do it jest fer fun. I'm growin' too old to waste time that way. My plan was to make money with all them inventions."
"Well, an' why can't ye?" she replied, coaxingly. "There's that X-ray invention, now. Why couldn't you show that at the World's Fair an' get a patent fer it?"
"I don't understand that business," he replied, sharply. "Besides I can't get one o' them X-ray machines—they cost a heap."
This was a blow to Phœbe's plan and she fell silent, thinking deeply. She had foreseen that Droop would take only a mercenary view of the matter and had relied upon the X-ray to provide him with a motive. But if he refused this, what was she to do?
Suddenly her face lighted up.
"I've got it!" she cried. "You know those movin' picture boxes ye see down to Keene, where ye turn a handle and a lot of photograph cards fly along like rufflin' the leaves of a book. Why, it just makes things look alive, Mr. Droop. I'm sure those weren't thought of six years ago. They're span spinter new. Why won't they do?"
"I ain't got one o' those either," Droop grumbled."I've got a kodak an' a graphophone an' a lot o' Milliken's cough syrup with the recipe——"
"Why there!" cried Phœbe, exultantly. "Milliken's cough syrup is only four years old, ain't it?"
Droop did not reply, but his silence was a virtual assent.
"The's a mint o' money in that—you know there is, Mr. Droop," she urged. "Why, I guess Mr. Milliken must have two or three millions, hasn't he?"
Rebecca returned at this moment and seated herself on the haircloth settle, nodding silently to Droop.
"What's about Mr. Milliken's money, Phœbe?" she asked.
"Why Mr. Droop says the X-ray is no good because it costs a heap and he hasn't got a machine fer it—an' I was tellin' him that Milliken's cough syrup was just as good—for that wasn't invented six years ago, an'——"
"Phœbe Wise, what do you mean!" exclaimed Rebecca. "Why, it would be jest like robbery to take Mr. Milliken's syrup, an' palm it off as Mr. Droop's. I'm surprised at ye!"
This attack upon the ethical plane struck Phœbe speechless. She blushed and stammered, but had no reply to make. The seeming defeat really concealed a victory, however, for it instantly converted Copernicus into an ally.
"You don't understand the thing, Cousin Rebecca," he said, gently but firmly. "Ye see ef we go six years back, it'll be a time when Mr. Millikenhadn't ever thought of his cough syrup. How could we be robbin' him of somethin' he hasn't got?"
Rebecca looked confused for a moment, but was not to be so easily convinced.
"'Tain't somethin' he ain't thought of," she said, stoutly. "He's makin' money out of it, an' ef we get back before him, why, when time comes agin for him to invent it he won't have it to invent. I'm sure that's jest as bad as robbin' him, ain't it?"
Phœbe looked anxiously at Copernicus and was much pleased to find him apparently unmoved.
"Why, you certainly don't understand this yet," he insisted. "Milliken ain't agoin' back six years with us, is he? He'll jest go right along livin' as he's ben doin'."
"What!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Will he be livin' in one time an' we be livin' in another—both at the same—" She stopped. Whatwasshe saying!
"No—no!" replied Copernicus. "He'll go on livin'. That's what hewilldo. We'll go on havin' lived. Or to put it different—wehavegone on livin' after we get back six years—to 1892. Ye see, we really have past all the six years—so the's no harm in it. Milliken won't be hurt."
Rebecca glanced at Phœbe, in whose face she found her own perplexity reflected. Then, throwing out her hands, as though pushing away her crowding mental obstructions, she cried:
"There—there! I can't get the hang of it. It's too much for me!"
"Oh, when you've done it once it'll be all easy and clear," said Droop, soothingly.
Phœbe looked hopefully into his face.
"Will you take us, Mr. Droop?" she asked.
"Oh, I s'pose I'll hev to."
"An' only unwind six years?"
"Yes—jest six years."
She jumped up excitedly.
"Then I'll be off to my packin'!"
She ran to the door and, pausing here, turned again to their visitor.
"Can we start to-night, Mr. Droop?"
"Yes, indeed!" he replied. "The sooner the better."
"That's splendid!" she cried, and ran quickly up the stairs.
The two older people sat for a while in melancholy silence, looking down. Each had hoped for more than this. Copernicus tried to convince himself that the profit from the cough syrup would comfort him for his disappointment. Rebecca dismissed with a sigh the dreams which she had allowed herself to entertain—those bright fictions centering on Joe Chandler—not the subdued old bachelor of 1898, but the jolly young fellow of the famous Centennial year.
At length Rebecca looked up and said:
"After all, Mr. Droop, come to think of it, you've no call to take us with ye. I can't do ye any good—goin' back only six years."
"Yes ye can," said Droop. "I'll need somebodyto help me keep house in the Panchronicon. I ain't no hand at cookin' an' all, an' besides, it'll be mighty lonely without anybody in there."
"Well," she rejoined, rising, "I'll jest go up an' finish my packin'."
"An' I'll go tend to mine."
As they parted at the front door, it was arranged that Droop was to bring a wheelbarrow after supper and transport the sisters' belongings, preparatory to their departure.
The rest of the day was spent in preparation for the momentous voyage. Phœbe went to the little bank at Peltonville station and withdrew the entire savings of herself and sister, much to the astonishment and concern of the cashier. She walked all the way to the bank and back alone, for it was obviously necessary to avoid inconvenient questions.
When the two sisters stood in their little dining-room with the heap of greenbacks on the table before them, Rebecca was attacked by another conscientious scruple.
"I don't hardly know as we're doin' right, Phœbe," she said, shaking her head dubiously. "When we get back to 1892 we'd ought to find some money in the bank already. Ef we hev this with us, too, seems to me we'll hev more'n we're entitled to. Ain't it a good deal like cheatin' the bank?"
"Mercy, no!" Phœbe exclaimed, pettishly. "You're forever raisin' some trouble like that! Ain't this our money?"
"Yes—but——"
"Well, then, what's the use o' talkin' 'bout it? Just wait till we can mention your trouble to Mr. Droop. He'll have a good answer for you."
"But s'posin' he can't answer it?" Rebecca insisted.
"Well, if he can't we can give back the difference to the bank."
So saying, Phœbe took her share of the bills and quickly left the room.
"I've got lots of things to do before night," she remarked.
At promptly half-past nine all the lights in the house were extinguished, and the two sisters sat together in the dark parlor awaiting Copernicus. It was Rebecca who had insisted on putting out the lights.
"Ef folks was to see lights here so late in the night," she said, "they'd suspicion somethin' an' they might even call in."
Phœbe admitted the justness of this reasoning, and they had both directed every endeavor to completing all their arrangements before their accustomed bed-time.
It was not long after this that a stealthy step was heard on the gravel path and Phœbe hurried to the door. Copernicus came in with a low word of greeting and followed the ghostly shadow of his hostess into the parlor.
The three stood together in the dark and conversed in an undertone, like so many conspirators surrounded by spies.
"Hev ye got everythin' ready?" Droop asked.
"Yes," said Phœbe. "The's only two little trunks for you. Did you bring the wheelbarrow?"
"Yep—I left it outside the gate. 'Twould hev made a lot of noise on the gravel inside."
"That's right," said Phœbe. "I guess you'll not have any trouble to carry both o' those trunks at once. We haven't packed only a few things, 'cause I expect we'll find all our old duds ready for us in 1892, won't we?"
"Why, 'f course," said Droop.
"But how 'bout linen—sheets an' table-cloths an' all?" said Rebecca. "We'll need some o' them on the trip, won't we?"
"I've got a hull slew o' them things in the Panchronicon," said Copernicus. "Ye won't hev to bother a bit about sech things."
"How long do you s'pose it'll take to make the trip," asked Phœbe. "I mean by the clock? We won't have to do any washing on the way, will we?"
"I don't see how we can," Rebecca broke in. "The's not a blessed tub on the hull machine."
"No, no," said Droop, reassuringly. "We'll make a bee-line for the pole, an' we'll go 'bout three times as fast as a lightnin' express train. We'd ought to reach there in about twenty-four hours, I guess. Then we'll take it easy cuttin' meridians, so's not to suffer from side weight, an'——"
"Side weight!" exclaimed the two women together.
"Yes," said Droop. "That's a complaint ye get ef ye unwind the time too fast. Ye see, growin' young isn't a thing folks is used to, an' it disgrummages the hull constitution ef ye grow young too fast. Well, 's I was a-sayin', I guess it'll take 'bout eighteen hours by the clock to cut back six years. Thet's by the clock, ye understand. As a matter of fact, of course, we'll be just six years less'n no time in finishin' the trip."
"Well," said Phœbe, briskly, "that's no kind o' reason fer dawdlin' about it now. Let's be startin'."
"Where's the trunks?" said Droop.
The trunks were pointed out, and with very little trouble Copernicus put them onto the barrow. He then came to the door for his last instructions.
"'S anythin' more?" he asked.
"No," said Rebecca. "We'll bring on our special duds in our arms. We'll wait a spell an' come on separate."
The door was carefully closed and they soon heard the slight creak of the weighted wheel as Droop set off with the trunks for Burnham's swamp.
"Now, then," said Phœbe, bustling into the parlor, "let's get our things all together ready to start. Have ye got your satchel with the money in it?"
Rebecca gently slapped a black leather bag hanging at her side.
"Here 'tis," she said.
"Let's see," Phœbe went on. "Here's my box with the letters an' miniature, here's the box with the jewelry, an' here's that book Mrs. Bolton gave me about Bacon writin' Shakespeare."
"Whatever air ye takin' that old book fer, Phœbe?"
"Why, to read on the train—I mean on the way, ye know. We'll likely find it pretty pokey in that one room all day."
"I don't know what ye mean by 'all day,'" Rebecca exclaimed in a discouraged tone. "So far's I see, th'ain't goin' to be any days. What'll it feel like—livin' backward that way? D'ye guess it'll make us feel sick, like ridin' backward in the cars?"
"Don't ask me," Phœbe exclaimed, despairingly. "'F I knew what 'twas like, perhaps I wouldn't feel so like goin'."
She straightened herself suddenly and stood rigid.
"Hark!" she exclaimed. "Is that Mr. Droop comin' back, d'you s'pose?"
There were distinctly audible footsteps on the path.
Phœbe came out into the hall on tiptoe and stood beside her sister.
There was a knock on the door. The two sisters gripped each other's arms excitedly.
"'Taint Copernicus!" Rebecca whispered very low.
The knock was repeated; rather louder this time. Then—
"Miss Wise—Miss Wise—are ye to home?"
It was a woman's voice.
"Sarah Allen!" Phœbe exclaimed under her breath.
"Whatever shall we do?" Rebecca replied.
"Miss Wise," the voice repeated, and then their visitor knocked again, much more loudly.
"I'll go to the door," exclaimed Phœbe.
"But——"
"I must. She'll raise the whole town if I don't."
So saying, Phœbe walked noisily to the door and unlocked it.
"Is that you, Mis' Allen?" she asked.
The door was opened, and Phœbe found herself face to face with a short, light woman whose white garments shone gray in the night.
"Why, you're up'n dressed!" exclaimed Mrs. Allen. She did not offer to enter, but went on excitedly:
"Miss Phœbe," she said, "d'you know I b'lieve you've ben robbed."
"What!"
"Yes; on'y a minute ago I was a-comin' up the road from M'ria Payson's—you know she's right sick an' I've ben givin' her massidge—an' what sh'd I see but a man comin' out o' your gate with suthin' on his shoulder. I couldn't see who 'twas, an' he was so quiet an' sneaky without a light that I jest slipped behind a tree. You know I've ben dreadful skeery ever sence Tom was brought home with his armbroke after a fight with a strange man in the dark. Well, this man to-night he put the bundle or what not into a wheelbarrow an' set off quiet as a mouse. He went off down that way, an' says I to myself, 'It's a robber ben burglin' at the Wise's house,' says I, an' I come straight here to see ef ye was both murdered or what. Air ye all right? Hez he broken yer door? Hev ye missed anythin'?"
As the little woman paused for breath, Phœbe seized her opportunity.
"Did you say he went off to the north, Mis' Allen?" she said, with feigned excitement.
"Yes."
"Oh, dear—oh, dear!" cried Phœbe, wringing her hands. "Didn't I say I heard a noise—I told you I heard a burglar, Rebecca," she went on, hysterically, turning to her sister.
"Is Miss Rebecca there?" asked Mrs. Allen.
Rebecca came forward in silence. She was quite nonplussed. To tell the truth, Phœbe's sudden outburst was as great a tax upon her nerves as Mrs. Allen's unwelcome visit. Surely Phœbe had said nothing about a burglar! It was Droop that Mrs. Allen had seen—of course it was. She dared not say so in their visitor's presence, but she wondered mightily at Phœbe's apparent perturbation.
Phœbe guessed her sister's mental confusion, and she sought to draw Mrs. Allen's attention to herself to avoid the betrayal of their plans which would certainly follow Rebecca's joining the conversation.
"Mis' Allen," she exclaimed, excitedly, "the's just one thing to be done. Won't you run's quick's ever you can to Si Pray, an' ask him to bring his gun? You won't meet the burglar 'cause he's gone the other way. Rebecca 'nd I'll jest wait here for you an' Si. I'll get some hot water from the kitchen, in case the burglar should come back while you're gone. Oh, please will you do it?"
"Course I will," was the nervous reply. This hint of the possible return of the robbers made an immediate retreat seem very desirable. "I'll go right now. Won't be gone a minute. Lock your door now—quick!"
She turned and sped down the path. She had not reached the gate before Phœbe walked rapidly into the parlor.
"Quick—quick!" she panted, frantically gathering up her belongings. "Get your duds an' come along."
"But what d'you——"
"Come—come—come!" cried Phœbe. "Come quick or they'll all be here. Gun and all!"
With her arm full of bundles, Phœbe rushed back through the hall and out of the front door. Rebecca followed her, drawn along by the fiery momentum of her sister.
"Lock the front door, Rebecca," Phœbe cried. Then, as she reached the gate and found it fastened: "Here, I can't undo the gate. My hands are full. Oh,dohurry, Rebecca! We haven't a minute!"
The elder sister locked the front door and starteddown the path in such a nervous fever that she left the key in the lock. Half way to the gate she paused.
"Come on—come on!" Phœbe cried, stamping her foot.
"My land!" stammered Rebecca. "I've forgot everythin'!" She started back, running with short, unaccustomed steps.
"My umbrella!" she gasped. "My recipes—my slips!"
Phœbe was speechless with anger and apprehension at this delay, and Rebecca was therefore allowed to re-enter the house without objection.
In a short time she reappeared carrying an umbrella, two flower-pots, and a folded newspaper.
"There!" she panted, as she came up to her sister and opened the gate. "Now I guess I've got everythin'!"
Silently and swiftly the two women sped northward, following the imaginary burglar, while the devoted Mrs. Allen ran breathless in the opposite direction for Si Pray and his gun.
"We'll hev to go more careful here," said Rebecca as they turned into the lane leading down to the swamp.
With many a stumble and some scratches they moved more slowly down the rutted track until at length they reached the point where they were to turn into the swamp.
Here the sisters leaned against the wall to rest and recover breath.
"My goodness, but that was a narrow escape!" murmured Phœbe.
"Yes," said Rebecca, with reproachful sadness; "but I'm afraid you paid a heavy price fer it, Phœbe!"
"What do you mean?"
"Why, 's fur's I could make out, you told Mis' Allen a deliberate wrong story, Phœbe Wise."
"What did I say?" said Phœbe, in shocked surprise.
"You said you hed told me you'd heerd a burglar!"
"Did I say that? Those very words?"
"Why, you know you did."
"Wasn't it a question, Rebecca?" Phœbe insisted. "Didn't Iaskyou ef I hadn't told you I heard a burglar?"
"No, it was a plain downright wrong story, Phœbe, an' you needn't to try to sneak out of it."
Phœbe was silent for a few moments, and then Rebecca heard her laugh. It was a very little, rippling thing—but it was genuine—there was real light-heartedness behind it.
"Phœbe Wise!" exclaimed Rebecca, "how ken you laugh so? I wouldn't hev the weight of sech a thing on my mind fer a good deal."
"Well, Rebecca," tittered her sister, "I didn't have it on my mind yesterday, did I?"
"Course not—but——"
"An' won't it be yesterday for us mighty soon—yes, an' a heap longer ago than that?"
She laughed again merrily and began to climb over the wall, a proceeding not rendered easier by the various articles in her hands.
A few minutes later the two women had joined Copernicus within his mysterious machine and were standing in the brightly lighted antechamber at the head of the stairs.
"Well—well!" cried Droop, as he caught sight of the two women for the first time in the light. "Where ever did ye get them funny dresses? Why, your sleeves is all puffed out near the shoulders!"
"These are some of our old dresses," said Rebecca. "They was made in 1891, an' we thought they'd prob'bly be more in the fashion back in 1892 when we get there than our newer dresses."
"Never mind our dresses, Mr. Droop," said Phœbe. "Where can we put down all these things? My arms are breakin' off."
"Right here, Cousin Phœbe."
Droop bustled over to the state-rooms, opening both the doors at once.
"Here's a room apiece fer ye. Take yer choice."
"Oh, but where'll you sleep?" said Phœbe. "P'raps Rebecca and I'd better have one room together."
"Not a bit of it," said Droop. "I'll sleep on one o' them settles under the windows. They're real comfortable."
"Well—just as you say."
The sisters entered their rooms and deposited theirbundles, but Phœbe returned at once and called to Droop, who had started down the stairs.
"Mr. Droop, you've got to start right straight off. Mrs. Allen knows 't you've carried off the trunk and she's comin' after us with Si Pray an' a gun."
Just then they heard the loud barking of a dog. He was apparently running rapidly down the lane.
"Sakes alive!" cried Phœbe, in alarm. "Slam to that door, Copernicus Droop! Si has let his dog loose an' he's on your tracks!"
The baying was repeated—now much nearer. Droop clattered frantically down the stairs, and shut the door with a bang. At the next moment a heavy body leaped against it, and a man's voice was heard close at hand.
"Sic um, Touser, sic um! Where is he, boy?"
Up the stairs went Copernicus two steps at a time. He dashed into the anteroom, pale and breathless.
"Lie down on the floor!" he shouted. "Lie down or ye'll get throwed down. I'm agoin' to start her!"
By this time he had opened the engine-room door.
The two women promptly lay flat on their backs on the carpet.
Droop braced himself firmly and had just grasped the starting lever when a cry from Rebecca arrested him.
"Copernicus Droop—hold on!" she cried.
He turned to her, his face full of anxious fear. Rebecca lay on her back with her hands at her sides, but her head was raised stiffly from the floor.
"Copernicus Droop," she said, solemnly, "hev ye brought any rum aboard with ye? 'Cause if ye have I won't——"
She never concluded, for at this moment her head was jerked back sharply against the floor by a tremendous upward leap of the machine.
There was a hissing roar as of a thousand rockets, and even as Rebecca was wondering, half stunned, why she saw so many jumping lights, Si Pray gazed open-mouthed at the ascension of a mysterious dark body apparently aimed at the sky.
The Panchronicon had started.
It was long after their bed-time and the two sisterswere utterly exhausted; but as the mysterious structure within which they lay glided northward between heaven and earth with the speed of a meteor, Rebecca and Phœbe long courted sleep in vain.
The excitement of their past adventures, the unreal wonder of their present situation, the bewildering possibilities and impossibilities of their future plans—all these conspired to banish sleep until long past midnight. It was not until, speeding due north with the unswerving obedience of a magnet, their vessel was sailing far above the waters of the upper Saguenay, that they at length sank to rest.
They were awakened next morning by a knocking upon Rebecca's door.
"It's pretty nigh eight-thirty," Droop cried. "I've got the kettle on the range, but I don't know what to do nex'."
"What! Why! Who! Where! Sakes! what's this?"
Rebecca sat up in bed, unable to place herself.
"It's pretty nigh half-past eight," Copernicus repeated."Long after breakfast-time. I'm hungry!"
By this time Phœbe was wide awake.
"All right!" she cried. "We'll come in a minute."
Then Rebecca knew where she was—or rather realized that she did not know. But fortunately a duty was awaiting her in the kitchen and this steadied a mind which seemed to her to need some support in the midst of these unwonted happenings.
Phœbe was the first to leave her bedroom. She had dressed with frantic speed. In her haste to get to the windows and see the world from the sky, she had secured her hair very imperfectly, and Droop was favored with a charming display of bright locks, picturesquely disarranged.
"Good-mornin', Cousin Phœbe," he said, with his suavest manner.
"Good-morning, Mr. Droop," Phœbe replied. "Where are we? Is everything all right?"
She made straight for one of the windows the iron shutters of which were now open.
"I wish't you'd call me Cousin Copernicus," Droop remarked.
"Oh—oh! What a beautiful world!"
Phœbe leaned her face close to the glass and gazed spell-bound at the wonderful landscape spread before her.
The whole atmosphere seemed filled with a clear, cold sunlight whose brilliance irradiated the giant sphere of earth so far away.
Directly below and to the right of their course, as far as she could see, there was one vast expanse of dark blue sea, gilded dazzlingly over one portion where the sun's beams were reflected. Far ahead to the north and as far behind them the sea was bordered with the fantastic curves of a faint blue coast dotted and lined with the shadows of many a hill and mountain. It was a map on which she was gazing. Nature's own map—the only perfect chart in the world.
So new—so intensely, almost painfully, beautiful was this scene that Phœbe stood transfixed—fascinated. She did not even think of speaking.
The scene was not so new to Droop—and besides he was a prey to an insistent appetite. His mental energies, therefore, sought expression in speech.
Approaching Phœbe's side, he said:
"Mighty pretty, ain't it?"
She did not reply, so he continued:
"That water right under us is Hudson Strait. The ocean to the right is the Atlantic. Ye can see Hudson's Bay off to the left out o' one o' them windows. I've ben lookin' it up on the map."
He strolled toward the table, as if inviting Phœbe to see his chart which lay there unrolled. She did not follow him.
"Yes," he continued, "that's Hudson Strait, and we're four miles high, an' that's all I'll tell ye till I have my breakfast."
He gazed wistfully at Phœbe, who did not moveor speak, but let her eyes wander in awed delight over the wonders thus brought before them.
Just then Rebecca emerged from her room.
"Good-mornin'," she said. "I guess I'm late."
"Good-mornin', Cousin Rebecca; I guess ye are a mite late. Cousin Phœbe won't move—so I'm sayin' we're four miles high an' right over Hudson Strait, an' that's all I'll tell ye till I get my breakfast."
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Rebecca. "Ain't that mos' too high, Mr. Droop?" She hurried to the window and looked out.
"Sakes alive!" she gasped.
She was silent for a moment, awed in her turn by the immensity of the prospect.
"Why—but—it's all water underneath!" she exclaimed at last. "Ef we was to fall now, we'd be drowned!"
"Now don't you be a mite skeert," said Droop, with reassuring politeness. "We've ben scootin' along like this all night an'—an' the fact is, I've got the kettle on—p'raps it's b'iled over."
Rebecca turned from the window at once and made for the kitchen.
"Phœbe," she said, briskly, "you set the table now an' I'll hev breakfast ready in a twinklin'."
Reluctantly Phœbe left the window and Droop soon had the satisfaction of sauntering back and forth between kitchen and dining-table in pleased supervision of the progress of both.
In due time a simple but substantial breakfastwas in readiness, and the three travellers were seated around the table partaking of the meal each in his own way.
Droop was business-like, almost enthusiastic, in his voracious hunger. Rebecca ate moderately and without haste, precisely as though seated in the little Peltonville cottage. Phœbe ate but little. She was overcome by the wonders she had seen, realizing for the first time the marvellous situation in which she found herself.
It was not until the table was cleared and the two women were busy with the dishes that conversation was resumed. Droop sat with his chair tilted backward against the kitchen wall enjoying a quiet satisfaction with his lot and a kindly mental attitude toward all men.
He glanced through the kitchen door at the barometer on the wall in the outer room.
"We've climbed near a mile since before breakfast," he remarked.
Rebecca paused before hanging up the soap-shaker.
"Look here, Mr. Droop," she said, anxiously, "we are mos' too high a'ready, I think. S'posin' we was to fall down. Where do you s'pose we'd be?"
"Why, Rebecca," said Phœbe, laughing, "do you suppose five miles is any worse than four? I guess we'd be killed by falling one mile jest as quick as five."
"Quicker!" Droop exclaimed. "Considerable quicker, Cousin Rebecca, fer it would take us agood deal longer to fall five miles than it would one."
"But what ever's the use o' keepin' on a-climbin'?"
"Why, that's the nature of this machine," he replied. "Ye see, it runs on the rocket principle by spurtin' out gases. Ef we want to go up off the ground we squirt out under the machine an' that gives us a h'ist. Then, when we get 'way up high, we spread out a pair o' big wings like and start the propeller at the stern end o' the thing. Now them wings on'y holds us up by bein' inclined a mite in front, and consequence is we're mighty apt to climb a little right 'long."
"Well, but won't we get too high?" suggested Phœbe. "Ain't the air too thin up very high?"
"Of course, we mustn't go too high," Droop conceded, "an' I was just a-thinkin' it wouldn't go amiss to let down a spell."
He rose and started for the engine-room.
"How do you let down?" Phœbe asked, pausing in her work.
"Why, I jest turn the wings horizontal, ye know, an' then we sink very slow till I incline 'em up again."
He disappeared. Phœbe gave the last of the dishes a brief touch of the dish-towel and then ran into the main room to watch the barometer.
She was much interested to observe a gradual but continual decrease in their altitude. She walked to the window but could see no apparent change, savethat they had now passed the sea and only the blue land with silver streaks of river and indigo hill shadows was beneath them.
"How fast do you s'pose we're flyin', Mr. Droop?" she asked.
"There's the speed indicator," he said, pointing to one of the dials on the wall. "Ye see it says we're a-hummin' along at about one hundred an' thirty miles an hour."
"My gracious!" cried Phœbe. "What if we was to hit something!"
"Nothin' to hit," said Droop, with a smile. "Ye see, the's no sort o' use goin' any slower, an' besides, this quick travellin' keeps us warm."
"Why, how's that?"
"The sides o' the machine rubbin' on the air," said Droop.
"That's so," Phœbe replied. "That's what heats up meteors so awful hot, ain't it?"
Rebecca came out of the kitchen at this moment.
"I must say ye wasn't particler about gettin' all the pans to rights 'fore ye left the kitchen, Phœbe. Ben makin' the beds?"
"Land, no, Rebecca!" said Phœbe, blushing guiltily.
"Well, there!"
Rebecca said no more, but her set lips and puckered forehead spoke much of displeasure as she stalked across to the state-rooms.
"Well, I declare to goodness!" she cried, as sheopened her door. "Ye hevn't even opened the window to air the rooms!"
Phœbe looked quite miserable at thought of her remissness, but Copernicus came bravely to the rescue.
"The windows can't be opened, Cousin Rebecca," he said. "Ef ye was to open one, 'twould blow yer head's bald as an egg in a minute."
"What!"
"Yes," said Phœbe, briskly, "I couldn't air the beds an' make 'em because we're going one hundred and thirty odd miles an hour, Rebecca."
"D'you mean to tell me, Copernicus Droop," cried the outraged spinster, "that I've got to go 'thout airin' my bed?"
"No, no," Copernicus said, soothingly. "The's special arrangements to keep ventilation goin'. Jest leave the bed open half the day an' it'll be all aired."
Rebecca looked far from pleased at this.
"I declare, ef I'd known of all these doin's," she muttered.
Unable to remain idle, she set to work "putting things to rights," as she called it, while Phœbe took her book to the west window and was soon lost in certain modern theories concerning the Baconian authorship of Shakespeare's works.
"Is these duds yourn, Mr. Droop?" asked Rebecca, sharply, pointing to a motley collection of goods piled in one corner of the main room.
"Yes," Droop replied, coming quickly to her side. "Them's some of the inventions I'm carryin' along."
He stooped and gathered up a number of boxes and bundles in his arms. Then he stood up and looked about him as though seeking a safe place for their deposit.
"That's all right," said Rebecca. "Ye can put 'em right back, Mr. Droop. I jest wanted to see whether the' was much dust back in there."
Droop replaced his goods with a sigh of relief. One box he retained, however, and, placing it upon the table, proceeded to unpack it.
Rebecca now turned her attention to her own belongings. Lifting one of her precious flower-pots carefully, she looked all about for a more suitable location for her plants.
"Phœbe," she exclaimed at length, "where ever can I set my slips? They ought to be in the sun there by the east window, but it'll dirt up the coverin' of the settle."
Phœbe looked up from her book.
"Why don't ye spread out that newspaper you brought with you?" she said.
Rebecca shook her head.
"No," she replied, "I couldn't do thet. The's a lot o' fine recipes in there—I never could make my sweet pickle as good as thet recipe in the New York paper thet Molly sent me."
Phœbe laid down her book and walked over to her sister's side.
"Oh, the' must be some part of it you can use, Rebecca," she said. "Land sakes!" she continued, laughing. "Why, it's the whole of theNew York Worldfor a Sunday—pictures an' all! Here—take this advertisin' piece an' spread it out—so."
She tore off a portion of the voluminous paper and carefully spread it out on one of the eastern settles.
"Whatever did you bring those slips with you for?" she asked.
Rebecca deposited the flower-pots carefully in the sun and slapped her hands across each other to remove the dust on them.
"One o' them is off my best honeysuckle thet come from a slip thet Sam Mellick brought from Japan in 1894. This geranium come off a plant thet was given me by Arabella Slade, 'fore she died in 1896, an' she cut it off'n a geranium thet come from a lot thet Joe Chandler's father raised from slips cut off of some plants down to Boston in the ground that used to belong to our great-grandfather Wilkins 'fore the Revolution."
This train of reasoning seemed satisfactory, and Phœbe turned to resume her book.
Copernicus intercepted her as she passed the table.
"What d'ye think o' this little phonograph, Cousin Phœbe?" he said.
One of Droop's boxes stood open and beside it Phœbe saw a phonograph with the usual spring motor and brass megaphone.
"I paid twenty-five fer that, secon' hand, down to Keene," said the proud owner.
"There!" exclaimed Phœbe. "I've always wanted to know how those things worked. I've heard 'em, you know, but I've never worked one."
"It's real easy," said Droop, quite delighted to find Phœbe so interested. "Ye see, when it's wound up, all ye hev to do is to slip one o' these wax cylinders on here—so."
He adjusted the cylinder, dropped the stylus and pushed the starting lever.
Instantly the stentorian announcement rang out from the megaphone.
"The Last Rose of Summer—Sola—Sung by Signora Casta Diva—Edison Record!"
"Goodness gracious sakes alive!" cried Rebecca, turning in affright. "Who's that?"
Her two companions raised their right hands in a simultaneous appeal for silence. Then the song began.
With open eyes and mouth, the amazed Rebecca drew slowly nearer, and finally took her stand directly in front of the megaphone.
The song ended and Copernicus stopped the motor.
"Oh, ain't it lovely!" Phœbe cried.
"Well—I'll—be—switched!" Rebecca exclaimed, with slow emphasis. "Can it sing anythin' else?"
"Didn't you never hear one afore, Cousin Rebecca?" Droop asked.
"I never did," she replied. "What on the face of the green airth does it?"
"Have ye any funny ones?" Phœbe asked, quickly, fearful of receiving a long scientific lecture.
"Yes," said Droop. "Here's a nigger minstrels. The's some jokes in it."
The loud preliminary announcement made Rebecca jump again, but while the music and the songs and jokes were delivered, she stood earnestly attentive throughout, while her companions grinned and giggled alternately.
"Is thet all?" she asked at the conclusion.
"Thet's all," said Droop, as he removed the cylinder.
"Well, I don't see nothin' funny 'bout it," she said, plaintively.
Droop's pride was touched.
"Ah, but that ain't all it can do!" he cried. "Here's a blank cylinder. You jest talk at the machine while it's runnin', an' it'll talk back all you say."
This was too much for Rebecca's credulity, and Droop could not induce her to talk into the trumpet.
"You can't make a fool o' me, Copernicus Droop," she exclaimed.
"You try, Cousin Phœbe," he said at last.
Phœbe looked dubiously at her sister as though half of opinion that her shrewd example should be followed.
"You sure it'll do it?" she asked.
"Certain!" cried Copernicus, nodding his head with violence.
She stood a moment leaning over with her pretty lips close to the trumpet.
Then she straightened up with a face of comical despair.
"I don't know what to say," she exclaimed.
Droop stopped the motor and looked about the room. Suddenly his eyes brightened.
"There," he cried, pointing to the book Phœbe had been reading, "read suthin' out o' that into it."
Phœbe opened the book at random, and as Droop started the motor again she read the following lines slowly and distinctly into the trumpet:
"It is thus made clear from the indubitable evidence of the plays themselves that Francis Bacon wrote the immortal works falsely ascribed to William Shakespeare, and that the gigantic genius of this man was the result of the possession of royal blood. In this unacknowledged son of Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England, was made manifest to all countries and for all centuries the glorious powers inherent in the regal blood of England."
"That'll do," said Droop. "Now jest hear it talk back."
He substituted the repeating stylus for the recording point and set the motor in motion once more. To the complete stupefaction of Rebecca, the repetition of Phœbe's words was perfect.
"Why! It's Phœbe's voice," she began, but Phœbe broke in upon her suddenly.
"Why, see the hills on each side of us, Mr. Droop," she cried.
Droop glanced out and leaped a foot from the ground.
"Goramighty!" he screamed, "she'll strike!" He dashed to the engine-room and threw up the forward edges of the aeroplanes. Instantly the vessel swooped upward and the hills Phœbe had seen appeared to drop into some great abyss.
The two women ran to a window and saw that they were over a bleak and rocky island covered with ice and snow.
Droop came to their side, quite pale with fright.
"Great Moses!" he exclaimed. "I warn't more'n jest in time, I tell ye! We was a-settlin' fast. A little more'n we'd ha' struck—" He snapped the fingers of both hands and made a gesture expressive of the complete destruction which would have resulted.
"I tell you what, Mr. Droop," said Rebecca, sternly, but with a little shake in her voice, "you've got to jest tend to business and navigate this thing we're a-ridin' on. You can't work and play too. Don't you say anythin' more to Phœbe or me till we get to the pole. What time'll that be?"
"About six or half-past, I expect," said Droop, humbly. "But I don't see how I can be workin' all the time. The machine don't need it, an', besides, I've got to eat, haven't I?"
"When it comes time fer your victuals, Phœbe'llwatch the windows an' the little clocks on the wall while I feed ye. But don't open yer head agin now, only fer necessary talkin' an' eatin', till we get there. I don't want any smash-ups 'round here."
Copernicus found it expedient to obey these instructions, and under Rebecca's watchful generalship he was obliged to pace back and forth from engine-room to window while Phœbe read and her sister knitted. So passed the remainder of the day, save when at dinner-time the famished man was relieved by his young lieutenant.
Immediately after supper, however, they all three posted themselves at the windows, on the lookout for the North Pole. Droop slowed down the propeller, and the aeroplanes being thus rendered less effective they slowly descended.
They were passing over an endless plain of rough and ragged ice. In every direction all the way to the horizon nothing could be seen but the glare of white.
"How'll you know when we get there?" asked Phœbe.
Droop glanced apprehensively at Rebecca and replied in a whisper:
"We'll see the pole a-stickin' up. We can't go wrong, you know. The Panchronicon is fixed to guide itself allus due north."
"You don't need to whisper—speak right up, Mr. Droop," said Rebecca, sharply.
Copernicus started, looked nervously about andthen stared out of the window northward with a very business-like frown.
"Is the' really an' truly a pole there?" Phœbe asked.
"Yes," said Droop, shortly.
"An' can ye see the meridians jammed together like in the geographies?" asked Rebecca.
"No," said Droop, "no, indeed—at least, I didn't see any."
"Why, Rebecca," said Phœbe, "the meridians are only conventional signs, you know. They don't——"
"Hallo!" Droop cried, suddenly, "what's that?" He raised a spyglass with which he had hitherto been playing and directed it northward for a few seconds. Then he turned with a look of relief on his face.
"It's the pole!" he exclaimed.
Phœbe snatched the spyglass and applied it to her eye.
Yes, on the horizon she could discern a thin black line, rising vertically from the plain of ice. Even as she looked it seemed to be nearer, so rapid was their progress.
Droop went to the engine-room, lessened speed and brought the aeroplanes to the horizontal. He could look directly forward through a thick glass port directly over the starting-handle. Gradually the great machine settled lower and lower. It was now running quite slowly and the aeroplanes acted only as parachutes as they glided still forward toward the black upright line.
In silence the three waited for the approachingend of this first stage of their journey. A few hundred yards south of their goal they seemed about to alight, but Droop slightly inclined the aeroplanes and speeded up the propeller a little. Their vessel swept gently upward and northward again, like a gull rising from the sea. Then Droop let it settle again. Just as they were about to fall rather violently upon the solid mass of ice below them, he projected a relatively small volume of gas from beneath the structure. Its reaction eased their descent, and they settled down without noise or shock.
They had arrived!
Copernicus came forward to the window and pointed to a tall, stout steel pole projecting from the ice a few yards to the right of the vessel.
"Thet, neighbors, is the North Pole!" he said, with a sweeping wave of the hand.
For some minutes the three voyagers stood in silence gazing through the window at the famous pole. This, then, was the goal of so much heroic endeavor! It was to reach this complete opposite of all that is ordinarily attractive that countless ambitious men had suffered—that so many had died!
"Well!" exclaimed Rebecca at length. "I be switched ef I see what there is fer so many folks to make sech a fuss about!"
Droop scratched his head thoughtfully and made no reply. Surely it would have been hard to point out any charms in the endless plain of opaque ice hummocks, unrelieved save by that gaunt steel pole.
"Where's the open sea?" Rebecca asked, after a few moments' pause. "Dr. Kane said the' was an open sea up here."
"Oh, Dr. Kane!" said Droop, contemptuously. "He's no 'count fer modern facts."
"What I can't understand," said Phœbe, "is how it comes that, if nobody's ever been up here, they all seem to know there's a North Pole here."
"That's a fact," Rebecca exclaimed. "How'd they know about it? The' ain't anythin' in the Bible 'bout it, is the'?"
Droop looked more cheerful at this and answered briskly:
"Oh, they don't know 'bout it. Ye see, that pole there ain't a nat'ral product of the soil at all. Et's the future man done that—the man who invented this Panchronicon and brought me up here before. He told me how that he stuck that post in there to help him run this machine 'round and 'round fer cuttin' meridians."
"Oh!" exclaimed both sisters together.
"Yes," Droop continued. "D'ye see thet big iron ring 'round the pole, lyin' on the ground?"
"I don't see any ground," said Rebecca, ruefully.
"Well, on the ice, then. Don't ye see it lyin' black there against the snow?"
"Yes—yes, I see it," said Phœbe.
"Well, that's what I'm goin' to hitch the holdin' rope on to. You'll see how it's done presently."
He glanced at the clock.
"Seven o'clock," he said. "I guessed mighty close when I said 'twould take us twenty hours. We left Peltonville at ten-thirty last night."
"Seven o'clock!" cried Rebecca. "So 'tis. Why, what's the matter with the sun. Ain't it goin' to set at all?"
"Not much!" said Droop, chuckling. "Sun don't set up here, Cousin Rebecca. Not until winter-time, an' then et stays set till summer again."
"Well!" was the breathless reply. "An' where in creation does it go when it stays set?"
"Why, Rebecca," exclaimed Phœbe, "the sun is south of the equator in winter, you know."
"Shinin' on the South Pole then," Droop added, nodding.
For a moment Rebecca looked from one to the other of her companions, and then, realizing the necessity of keeping her mind within its accustomed sphere, she changed the subject.
"Come now—the' ain't any wind to blow us away now, I hope. Let's open our windows an' air out those state-rooms."
She started toward her door.
"Hold on!" cried Droop, extending his arm to stop her. "You don't want to fall down dead o' cold, do ye?"
"What!"
"Don't you know what a North Pole is like fer weather an' sich?" Droop continued. "Why, Cousin Rebecca, it's mos' any 'mount below zero outside.Don't you open a window—not a tiny crack—if ye don't want to freeze solid in a second."
"There!" Rebecca exclaimed. "You do provoke me beyond anythin', Copernicus Droop! Ef I'd a-knowed the kind o' way we'd had to live—why, there! It's wuss'n pigs!"
She marched indignantly into her room and closed the door. A moment later she put out her head.
"Phœbe Wise," she said, "if you take my advice, you'll make your bed an' tidy yer room at once. Ain't any use waitin' any longer fer a chance to air."
Phœbe smiled and moved toward her own door.
"Thet's a good idea," said Droop. "You fix yer rooms an' I'll do some figurin'. Ye see I've got to figure out how long it'll take us to get back six years. I've a notion it'll take about eighteen hours, but I ain't certain sure."
Poor Rebecca set to work in her rooms with far from enviable feelings. Her curiosity had been largely satisfied and the unwonted conditions were proving very trying indeed. Could she have set out with the prospect of returning to those magical days of youth and courtship, as Droop had originally proposed, the end would have justified the means. But they could not do this now if they would, for Phœbe had left her baby clothes behind. Thus her disappointment added to her burdens, and she found herself wishing that she had never left her comfortable home, however amazing had been her adventures.
"I could'v aired my bed at least," she muttered, as she turned the mattress of her couch in the solitude of her chamber.
She found the long-accustomed details of chamber work a comfort and solace, and, as she finally gazed about the tidy room at her completed work, she felt far more contented with her lot than she had felt before beginning.
"I guess I'll go help Phœbe," she thought. "The girl is that slow!"
As she came from her room she found Copernicus leaning over the table, one hand buried in his hair and the other wielding a pencil. He was absorbed in arithmetical calculations.
She did not disturb him, but turned and entered Phœbe's room without the formality of knocking. As she opened the door, there was a sharp clatter, as of a door or lid slamming.
"Who's there?" cried Phœbe, sharply.
She was seated on the floor in front of her trunk, and she looked up at her sister with a flushed and startled face.
"Oh, it's you!" she said, guiltily.
Rebecca glanced at the bed.
It had not been touched.
"Well, I declare!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Ain't you ever agoin' to fix up your room, Phœbe Wise?"
"Oh, in a minute, Rebecca. I was just agoin' over my trunk a minute."
She leaned back against the foot of the bed, and folding her hands gazed pensively into vacancy, while Rebecca stared at her in astonishment.
"Do you know," Phœbe went on, "I've ben thinkin' it's awful mean not to give you a chance to go back to 1876, Rebecca. Joe Chandler's a mighty fine man!"
Rebecca gave vent to an unintelligible murmur and turned to Phœbe's bed. She grasped the mattress and gave it a vicious shake as she turned it over. She was probably only transferring to this inoffensive article a process which she would gladly have applied elsewhere.
There was a long silence while Rebecca resentfully drew the sheets into proper position, smoothed them with swift pats and caressings, and tucked them neatly under at head and sides. Then came a soft, apologetic voice.
"Rebecca!"
The spinster made no reply but applied herself to a mathematically accurate adjustment of the top edge of the upper sheet.
"Rebecca!"
The second call was a little louder than the first, and there was a queer half-sobbing, half-laughing catch in the speaker's voice that commanded attention.
Rebecca looked up.
Phœbe was still sitting on the floor beside her trunk, but the trunk was open now and the youngwoman's rosy face was peering with a pathetic smile over a—what!—could it be!
Rebecca leaned forward in amazement.
Yes, it was! In Phœbe's outstretched hands was the dearest possible little baby's undergarment—all of cambric, with narrow ribbons at the neck.
For a few seconds the two sisters looked at each other over this unexpected barrier. Then Phœbe's lips quivered into a pathetic curve and she buried her face in the little garment, laughing and crying at once.
Rebecca dropped helplessly into a chair.
"Phœbe Martin Wise!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean—hev you brought——?"
She fell silent, and then, darting at her sister, she took her head in her hands and deposited a sudden kiss on the smooth bright gold-brown hair and whisked out of Phœbe's room and into her own.
In the meantime Copernicus was too deeply absorbed in his calculations to notice these comings and goings. Apparently he had been led into the most abstruse mathematical regions. Nothing short of the triple integration of transcendental functions should have been adequate to produce those lines of anxious care in his face as he slowly covered sheet after sheet with figures.
He was at length startled from his preoccupation by a gentle voice at his side.
"Can't I help, Mr. Droop?"
It was Phœbe, who, having made all right in herroom and washed all traces of tears from her face, had come to note Droop's progress.
Dazed, he raised his head and looked unexpectedly into a lovely face made the more attractive by an expression only given by a sense of duty unselfishly done.
"I—I wish'd you'd call me Cousin Copernicus," he said for the fifth time.
She picked up one of the sheets on which he had been scribbling as though she had not heard him, and said:
"Why, dear me! How comes it you have so much figurin' to do?"
"Well," he began, in a querulous tone, "it beats all creation how many things a feller has to work out at once! Ye see, I've got a rope forty foot long that's got to tie the Panchronicon to the North Pole while we swing 'round to cut meridians. Now, then, the question is, How many times an hour shall we swing 'round to get to 1892, an' how long's it goin' to take an' how fast must I make the old thing hum along?"
"But you said eighteen hours by the clock would do it."
"Well, I jest guessed at that by the time the future man an' I took to go back five weeks, ye know. But I can't seem to figur it out right."
Phœbe seated herself at the table and took up a blank sheet of paper.
"Please lend me your pencil," she said. "Now,then, every time you whirl once 'round the pole to westward you lose one day, don't you?"
"That's it," said Droop, cheerfully. "Cuttin' twenty-four meridians——"
"And how many days in twenty-two years?" Phœbe broke in.
"You mean in six years."
"Why, no," she replied, glancing at Droop with a mischievous smile, "it's twenty-two years back to 1876, ain't it?"
"To '76—why, but——"
He caught sight of her face and stopped short.
There came a pleased voice from one of the state-rooms.
"Yes, we've decided to go all the way back, Mr. Droop."
It was Rebecca.
She came forward and stood beside her sister, placing one hand affectionately upon her shoulder.
Droop leaned back in his chair with both hands on the edge of the table.
"Goin' all the way! Why, but then——"
He leaped to his feet with a radiant face.
"Great Jumpin' Jerusha!" he cried.
Slapping his thigh he began to pace excitedly up and down.
"Why, then, we'll get all the big inventions out—kodak an' phonograph and all. We'll marry Joe Chandler an' set things agoin' in two shakes fer millions."
"Eight thousand and thirty-five," said Phœbe in a quiet voice, putting her pencil to her lips. "We'll have to whirl round the pole eight thousand and thirty-five times."
"Whose goin' to keep count?" asked Rebecca, cheerfully. Ah, how different it all seemed now! Every dry detail was of interest.
Phœbe looked up at Droop, who now resumed his seat, somewhat sobered.
"Don't have to keep count," he replied. "See that indicator?" he continued, pointing to a dial in the ceiling which had not been noticed before. "That reads May 3, 1898, now, don't it? Well, it's fixed to keep always tellin' the right date. It counts the whirls we make an' keeps tabs on every day we go backward. Any time all ye hev to do is to read that thing an' it'll tell ye jest what day 'tis."
"Then what do you want to calculate how often to whirl round?" asked Phœbe, in disgusted tones.