The Panchronicon

by Harold Steele MacKaye

  CHAPTER IV

  A CHANGE OF PLAN

  It was long after their bed-time and the two sisters were utterlyexhausted; but as the mysterious structure within which they lay glidednorthward between heaven and earth with the speed of a meteor, Rebeccaand Phoebe long courted sleep in vain.

  The excitement of their past adventures, the unreal wonder of theirpresent situation, the bewildering possibilities and impossibilities oftheir future plans--all these conspired to banish sleep until long pastmidnight. It was not until, speeding due north with the unswervingobedience of a magnet, their vessel was sailing far above the waters ofthe 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 onthe 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 afterbreakfast-time. I'm hungry!"

  By this time Phoebe 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 notknow. But fortunately a duty was awaiting her in the kitchen and thissteadied a mind which seemed to her to need some support in the midst ofthese unwonted happenings.

  Phoebe was the first to leave her bedroom. She had dressed withfrantic speed. In her haste to get to the windows and see the world fromthe sky, she had secured her hair very imperfectly, and Droop wasfavored with a charming display of bright locks, picturesquelydisarranged.

  "Good-mornin', Cousin Phoebe," he said, with his suavest manner.

  "Good-morning, Mr. Droop," Phoebe replied. "Where are we? Iseverything all right?"

  She made straight for one of the windows the iron shutters of which werenow open.

  "I wish't you'd call me Cousin Copernicus," Droop remarked.

  "Oh--oh! What a beautiful world!"

  Phoebe leaned her face close to the glass and gazed spell-bound at thewonderful landscape spread before her.

  The whole atmosphere seemed filled with a clear, cold sunlight whosebrilliance irradiated the giant sphere of earth so far away.

  Directly below and to the right of their course, as far as she couldsee, there was one vast expanse of dark blue sea, gilded dazzlingly overone portion where the sun's beams were reflected. Far ahead to the northand as far behind them the sea was bordered with the fantastic curves ofa faint blue coast dotted and lined with the shadows of many a hill andmountain. It was a map on which she was gazing. Nature's own map--theonly perfect chart in the world.

  So new--so intensely, almost painfully, beautiful was this scene thatPhoebe stood transfixed--fascinated. She did not even think ofspeaking.

  The scene was not so new to Droop--and besides he was a prey to aninsistent appetite. His mental energies, therefore, sought expression inspeech.

  Approaching Phoebe'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 isthe Atlantic. Ye can see Hudson's Bay off to the left out o' one o' themwindows. I've ben lookin' it up on the map."

  He strolled toward the table, as if inviting Phoebe to see his chartwhich 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 Phoebe, who did not move or speak, but let hereyes 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. CousinPhoebe won't move--so I'm sayin' we're four miles high an' right overHudson 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 theprospect.

  "Why--but--it's all water underneath!" she exclaimed at last. "Ef we wasto fall now, we'd be drowned!"

  "Now don't you be a mite skeert," said Droop, with reassuringpoliteness. "We've ben scootin' along like this all night an'--an' thefact 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.

  "Phoebe," she said, briskly, "you set the table now an' I'll hevbreakfast ready in a twinklin'."

  Reluctantly Phoebe left the window and Droop soon had the satisfactionof sauntering back and forth between kitchen and dining-table in pleasedsupervision of the progress of both.

  In due time a simple but substantial breakfast was in readiness, andthe three travellers were seated around the table partaking of the mealeach in his own way.

  Droop was business-like, almost enthusiastic, in his voracious hunger.Rebecca ate moderately and without haste, precisely as though seated inthe little Peltonville cottage. Phoebe ate but little. She wasovercome by the wonders she had seen, realizing for the first time themarvellous situation in which she found herself.

  It was not until the table was cleared and the two women were busy withthe dishes that conversation was resumed. Droop sat with his chairtilted backward against the kitchen wall enjoying a quiet satisfactionwith his lot and a kindly mental attitude toward all men.

  He glanced through the kitchen door at the barometer on the wall in theouter 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 higha'ready, I think. S'posin' we was to fall down. Where do you s'pose we'dbe?"

  "Why, Rebecca," said Phoebe, laughing, "do you suppose five miles isany worse than four? I guess we'd be killed by falling one mile jest asquick as five."

  "Quicker!" Droop exclaimed. "Considerable quicker, Cousin Rebecca, ferit would take us a good deal longer to fall five miles than it wouldone."

  "But what ever's the use o' keepin' on a-climbin'?"

  "Why, that's the nature of this machine," he replied. "Ye see, it runson the rocket principle by spurtin' out gases. Ef we want to go up offthe 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 likeand start the propeller at the stern end o' the thing. Now them wingson'y holds us up by bein' inclined a mite in front, and consequence iswe're mighty apt to climb a little right 'long."

  "Well, but won't we get too high?" suggested Phoebe. "Ain't the airtoo thin up very high?"

  "Of course, we mustn't go too high," Droop conceded, "an' I was justa-thinkin' it wouldn't go amiss to let down a spell."

  He rose and started for the engine-room.

  "How do you let down?" Phoebe asked, pausing in her work.

  "Why, I jest turn the wings horizontal, ye know, an' then we sink veryslow till I incline 'em up again."

  He disappeared. Phoebe gave the last of the dishes a brief touch ofthe dish-towel and then ran into the main room to watch the barometer.

  She was much interested to observe a gradual but continual decrease intheir altitude. She walked to the window but could see no apparentchange, save that they had now passed the sea and only the blue landwith 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 onthe wall. "Ye see it says we're a-hummin' along at about one hundred an'thirty miles an hour."

  "My gracious!" cried Phoebe. "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," Phoebe replied. "That's what heats up meteors so awfulhot, 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, Phoebe. Ben makin' the beds?"

  "Land, no, Rebecca!" said Phoebe, blushing guiltily.

  "Well, there!"

  Rebecca said no more, but her set lips and puckered forehead spoke muchof displeasure as she stalked across to the state-rooms.

  "Well, I declare to goodness!" she cried, as she opened her door. "Yehevn't even opened the window to air the rooms!"

  Phoebe looked quite miserable at thought of her remissness, butCopernicus came bravely to the rescue.

  "The windows can't be opened, Cousin Rebecca," he said. "Ef ye was toopen one, 'twould blow yer head's bald as an egg in a minute."

  "What!"

  "Yes," said Phoebe, briskly, "I couldn't air the beds an' make 'embecause 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 tokeep ventilation goin'. Jest leave the bed open half the day an' it'llbe 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," asshe called it, while Phoebe took her book to the west window and wassoon lost in certain modern theories concerning the Baconian authorshipof Shakespeare's works.

  "Is these duds yourn, Mr. Droop?" asked Rebecca, sharply, pointing to amotley collection of goods piled in one corner of the main room.

  "Yes," Droop replied, coming quickly to her side. "Them's some of theinventions 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 fortheir 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 ofher precious flower-pots carefully, she looked all about for a moresuitable location for her plants.

  "Phoebe," 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 upthe coverin' of the settle."

  Phoebe 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 inthere--I never could make my sweet pickle as good as thet recipe in theNew York paper thet Molly sent me."

  Phoebe 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. "Landsakes!" she continued, laughing. "Why, it's the whole of the _New YorkWorld_ for a Sunday--pictures an' all! Here--take this advertisin' piecean' spread it out--so."

  She tore off a portion of the voluminous paper and carefully spread itout 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 herhands across each other to remove the dust on them.

  "One o' them is off my best honeysuckle thet come from a slip thet SamMellick brought from Japan in 1894. This geranium come off a plant thetwas given me by Arabella Slade, 'fore she died in 1896, an' she cut itoff'n a geranium thet come from a lot thet Joe Chandler's father raisedfrom slips cut off of some plants down to Boston in the ground that usedto belong to our great-grandfather Wilkins 'fore the Revolution."

  This train of reasoning seemed satisfactory, and Phoebe turned toresume her book.

  Copernicus intercepted her as she passed the table.

  "What d'ye think o' this little phonograph, Cousin Phoebe?" he said.

  One of Droop's boxes stood open and beside it Phoebe saw a phonographwith the usual spring motor and brass megaphone.

  "I paid twenty-five fer that, secon' hand, down to Keene," said theproud owner.

  "There!" exclaimed Phoebe. "I've always wanted to know how thosethings worked. I've heard 'em, you know, but I've never worked one."

  "It's real easy," said Droop, quite delighted to find Phoebe sointerested. "Ye see, when it's wound up, all ye hev to do is to slip oneo' these wax cylinders on here--so."

  He adjusted the cylinder, dropped the stylus and pushed the startinglever.

  Instantly the stentorian announcement rang out from the megaphone.

  "The Last Rose of Summer--Sola--Sung by Signora Casta Diva--EdisonRecord!"

  "Goodness gracious sakes alive!" cried Rebecca, turning in affright."Who's that?"

  Her two companions raised their right hands in a simultaneous appeal forsilence. Then the song began.

  With open eyes and mouth, the amazed Rebecca drew slowly nearer, andfinally took her stand directly in front of the megaphone.

  The song ended and Copernicus stopped the motor.

  "Oh, ain't it lovely!" Phoebe cried.

  "Well--I'll--be--switched!" Rebecca exclaimed, with slow emphasis. "Canit 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 doesit?"

  "Have ye any funny ones?" Phoebe asked, quickly, fearful of receivinga 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 themusic and the songs and jokes were delivered, she stood earnestlyattentive throughout, while her companions grinned and giggledalternately.

  "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 allyou say."

  This was too much for Rebecca's credulity, and Droop could not induceher to talk into the trumpet.

  "You can't make a fool o' me, Copernicus Droop," she exclaimed.

  "You try, Cousin Phoebe," he said at last.

  Phoebe looked dubiously at her sister as though half of opinion thather 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 thetrumpet.

  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 eyesbrightened.

  "There," he cried, pointing to the book Phoebe had been reading, "readsuthin' out o' that into it."

  Phoebe opened the book at random, and as Droop started the motor againshe read the following lines slowly and distinctly into the trumpet:

  "It is thus made clear from the indubitable evidence of the playsthemselves that Francis Bacon wrote the immortal works falsely ascribedto William Shakespeare, and that the gigantic genius of this man was theresult of the possession of royal blood. In this unacknowledged son ofElizabeth Tudor, Queen of England, was made manifest to all co
untriesand for all centuries the glorious powers inherent in the regal blood ofEngland."

  "That'll do," said Droop. "Now jest hear it talk back."

  He substituted the repeating stylus for the recording point and set themotor in motion once more. To the complete stupefaction of Rebecca, therepetition of Phoebe's words was perfect.

  "Why! It's Phoebe's voice," she began, but Phoebe broke in upon hersuddenly.

  "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-roomand threw up the forward edges of the aeroplanes. Instantly the vesselswooped upward and the hills Phoebe had seen appeared to drop intosome great abyss.

  The two women ran to a window and saw that they were over a bleak androcky 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 snappedthe fingers of both hands and made a gesture expressive of the completedestruction which would have resulted.

  "I tell you what, Mr. Droop," said Rebecca, sternly, but with a littleshake in her voice, "you've got to jest tend to business and navigatethis thing we're a-ridin' on. You can't work and play too. Don't you sayanythin' more to Phoebe or me till we get to the pole. What time'llthat be?"

  "About six or half-past, I expect," said Droop, humbly. "But I don't seehow 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, Phoebe'll watch the windowsan' the little clocks on the wall while I feed ye. But don't open yerhead 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 underRebecca's watchful generalship he was obliged to pace back and forthfrom engine-room to window while Phoebe read and her sister knitted.So passed the remainder of the day, save when at dinner-time thefamished man was relieved by his young lieutenant.

  Immediately after supper, however, they all three posted themselves atthe windows, on the lookout for the North Pole. Droop slowed down thepropeller, and the aeroplanes being thus rendered less effective theyslowly descended.

  They were passing over an endless plain of rough and ragged ice. Inevery direction all the way to the horizon nothing could be seen but theglare of white.

  "How'll you know when we get there?" asked Phoebe.

  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. ThePanchronicon 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 and then stared out of thewindow northward with a very business-like frown.

  "Is the' really an' truly a pole there?" Phoebe 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 Phoebe, "the meridians are only conventionalsigns, you know. They don't----"

  "Hallo!" Droop cried, suddenly, "what's that?" He raised a spyglass withwhich he had hitherto been playing and directed it northward for a fewseconds. Then he turned with a look of relief on his face.

  "It's the pole!" he exclaimed.

  Phoebe snatched the spyglass and applied it to her eye.

  Yes, on the horizon she could discern a thin black line, risingvertically from the plain of ice. Even as she looked it seemed to benearer, so rapid was their progress.

  Droop went to the engine-room, lessened speed and brought the aeroplanesto the horizontal. He could look directly forward through a thick glassport directly over the starting-handle. Gradually the great machinesettled lower and lower. It was now running quite slowly and theaeroplanes acted only as parachutes as they glided still forward towardthe black upright line.

  In silence the three waited for the approaching end of this first stageof their journey. A few hundred yards south of their goal they seemedabout to alight, but Droop slightly inclined the aeroplanes and speededup the propeller a little. Their vessel swept gently upward andnorthward again, like a gull rising from the sea. Then Droop let itsettle again. Just as they were about to fall rather violently upon thesolid mass of ice below them, he projected a relatively small volume ofgas from beneath the structure. Its reaction eased their descent, andthey settled down without noise or shock.

  They had arrived!

  Copernicus came forward to the window and pointed to a tall, stout steelpole 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 ofthe hand.

  For some minutes the three voyagers stood in silence gazing through thewindow at the famous pole. This, then, was the goal of so much heroicendeavor! It was to reach this complete opposite of all that isordinarily attractive that countless ambitious men had suffered--that somany had died!

  "Well!" exclaimed Rebecca at length. "I be switched ef I see what thereis fer so many folks to make sech a fuss about!"

  Droop scratched his head thoughtfully and made no reply. Surely it wouldhave been hard to point out any charms in the endless plain of opaqueice 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 modernfacts."

  "What I can't understand," said Phoebe, "is how it comes that, ifnobody's ever been up here, they all seem to know there's a North Polehere."

  "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'ralproduct of the soil at all. Et's the future man done that--the man whoinvented this Panchronicon and brought me up here before. He told me howthat 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 thesnow?"

  "Yes--yes, I see it," said Phoebe.

  "Well, that's what I'm goin' to hitch the holdin' rope on to. You'll seehow it's done presently."

  He glanced at the clock.

  "Seven o'clock," he said. "I guessed mighty close when I said 'twouldtake us twenty hours. We left Peltonville at ten-thirty last night."

  "Seven o'clock!" cried Rebecca. "So 'tis. Why, what's the matter withthe sun. Ain't it goin' to set at all?"

  "Not much!" said Droop, chuckling. "Sun don't set up here, CousinRebecca. Not until winter-time, an' then et stays set till summeragain."

  "Well!" was the breathless reply. "An' where in creation does it go whenit stays set?"

  "Why, Rebecca," exclaimed Phoebe, "the sun is south of the equator inwinter, you know."

  "Shinin' on the South Pole then," Droop added, nodding.

  For a moment Rebecca looked from one to the other of her companions, andthen, realizing the necessity of keeping her mind within its accustomedsphere, she changed the subject.

  "Come now--the' ain't any wind to blow us away now, I hope. Let's openour 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 wantto fall down dead o' cold
, do ye?"

  "What!"

  "Don't you know what a North Pole is like fer weather an' sich?" Droopcontinued. "Why, Cousin Rebecca, it's mos' any 'mount below zerooutside. Don't you open a window--not a tiny crack--if ye don't want tofreeze 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 momentlater she put out her head.

  "Phoebe Wise," she said, "if you take my advice, you'll make your bedan' tidy yer room at once. Ain't any use waitin' any longer fer a chanceto air."

  Phoebe smiled and moved toward her own door.

  "Thet's a good idea," said Droop. "You fix yer rooms an' I'll do somefigurin'. Ye see I've got to figure out how long it'll take us to getback six years. I've a notion it'll take about eighteen hours, but Iain'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 conditionswere proving very trying indeed. Could she have set out with theprospect of returning to those magical days of youth and courtship, asDroop had originally proposed, the end would have justified the means.But they could not do this now if they would, for Phoebe had left herbaby clothes behind. Thus her disappointment added to her burdens, andshe 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 themattress of her couch in the solitude of her chamber.

  She found the long-accustomed details of chamber work a comfort andsolace, and, as she finally gazed about the tidy room at her completedwork, she felt far more contented with her lot than she had felt beforebeginning.

  "I guess I'll go help Phoebe," 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 wasabsorbed in arithmetical calculations.

  She did not disturb him, but turned and entered Phoebe's room withoutthe formality of knocking. As she opened the door, there was a sharpclatter, as of a door or lid slamming.

  "Who's there?" cried Phoebe, sharply.

  She was seated on the floor in front of her trunk, and she looked up ather 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 upyour room, Phoebe 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 gazedpensively into vacancy, while Rebecca stared at her in astonishment.

  "Do you know," Phoebe went on, "I've ben thinkin' it's awful mean notto give you a chance to go back to 1876, Rebecca. Joe Chandler's amighty fine man!"

  Rebecca gave vent to an unintelligible murmur and turned to Phoebe'sbed. She grasped the mattress and gave it a vicious shake as she turnedit over. She was probably only transferring to this inoffensive articlea process which she would gladly have applied elsewhere.

  There was a long silence while Rebecca resentfully drew the sheets intoproper position, smoothed them with swift pats and caressings, andtucked them neatly under at head and sides. Then came a soft, apologeticvoice.

  "Rebecca!"

  The spinster made no reply but applied herself to a mathematicallyaccurate adjustment of the top edge of the upper sheet.

  "Rebecca!"

  The second call was a little louder than the first, and there was aqueer half-sobbing, half-laughing catch in the speaker's voice thatcommanded attention.

  Rebecca looked up.

  Phoebe was still sitting on the floor beside her trunk, but the trunkwas open now and the young woman's rosy face was peering with apathetic smile over a--what!--could it be!

  Rebecca leaned forward in amazement.

  Yes, it was! In Phoebe's outstretched hands was the dearest possiblelittle baby's undergarment--all of cambric, with narrow ribbons at theneck.

  For a few seconds the two sisters looked at each other over thisunexpected barrier. Then Phoebe's lips quivered into a pathetic curveand she buried her face in the little garment, laughing and crying atonce.

  Rebecca dropped helplessly into a chair.

  "Phoebe Martin Wise!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean--hev youbrought----?"

  She fell silent, and then, darting at her sister, she took her head inher hands and deposited a sudden kiss on the smooth bright gold-brownhair and whisked out of Phoebe's room and into her own.

  In the meantime Copernicus was too deeply absorbed in his calculationsto notice these comings and goings. Apparently he had been led into themost abstruse mathematical regions. Nothing short of the tripleintegration of transcendental functions should have been adequate toproduce those lines of anxious care in his face as he slowly coveredsheet after sheet with figures.

  He was at length startled from his preoccupation by a gentle voice athis side.

  "Can't I help, Mr. Droop?"

  It was Phoebe, who, having made all right in her room and washed alltraces of tears from her face, had come to note Droop's progress.

  Dazed, he raised his head and looked unexpectedly into a lovely facemade the more attractive by an expression only given by a sense of dutyunselfishly done.

  "I--I wish'd you'd call me Cousin Copernicus," he said for the fifthtime.

  She picked up one of the sheets on which he had been scribbling asthough 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 manythings a feller has to work out at once! Ye see, I've got a rope fortyfoot long that's got to tie the Panchronicon to the North Pole while weswing 'round to cut meridians. Now, then, the question is, How manytimes an hour shall we swing 'round to get to 1892, an' how long's itgoin' 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 togo back five weeks, ye know. But I can't seem to figur it out right."

  Phoebe seated herself at the table and took up a blank sheet of paper.

  "Please lend me your pencil," she said. "Now, then, every time youwhirl 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?" Phoebe 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 handaffectionately 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' phonographand all. We'll marry Joe Chandler an' set things agoin' in two shakesfer millions."

  "Eight thousand and thirty-five," said Phoebe in a quiet voice,putting her pencil to her lips. "We'll have to whirl round the poleeight thousand and thirty-five times."

  "Whose goin' to keep count?" asked Rebecca, cheerfully. Ah, howdifferent it all seemed now! Every dry detail
was of interest.

  Phoebe looked up at Droop, who now resumed his seat, somewhat sobered.

  "Don't have to keep count," he replied. "See that indicator?" hecontinued, pointing to a dial in the ceiling which had not been noticedbefore. "That reads May 3, 1898, now, don't it? Well, it's fixed to keepalways tellin' the right date. It counts the whirls we make an' keepstabs on every day we go backward. Any time all ye hev to do is to readthat thing an' it'll tell ye jest what day 'tis."

  "Then what do you want to calculate how often to whirl round?" askedPhoebe, in disgusted tones.

  "Well, ye see I want to plan out how long it'll take," Droop replied. "Iwant to go slow so as to avoid side weight--but I don't want to go tooslow."

  "I see," said Phoebe. "Well, then, how many times a minute did thefuture man take you when you whirled back five weeks?"

  "'Bout two times a minute."

  "That's one hundred and twenty times every hour. Did you feel much sideweight then?"

  "Scarcely any."

  "Well, let's see. Divide eight thousand and thirty-five whirls by onehundred and twenty, an' you get sixty-seven hours. So that, ef we go atthat rate it'll be two days and nineteen hours 'fore we get back to1876."

  "Don't talk about days," Droop objected. "It's sixty-seven hours by theclock--but it's twenty-two years less than no time in days, ye know."

  "Sixty-seven hours," said Phoebe. "Well, that ain't so bad, is it? Whynot go round twice a minute?"

  "We can't air our beds fer three days, Phoebe," said Rebecca.

  "But if we go much faster, we'll all be sick with this side weighttrouble that Mr. Droop tells about."

  "I vote fer twice a minute," said Droop. And so twice a minute wasadopted.

  "Air ye goin' to start to-night, Mr. Droop?" asked Rebecca.

  "Well, no," he replied. "I think it's best to wait till to-morrow. Yesee, the power that runs the Panchronicon is got out o' the sunlightthat falls on it. Of course, we're not all run out o' power by a goodlot, but we've used considerable, an' I think it's a little mite saferto lie still fer a few hours here an' take in power from the sun. Yesee, it'll shine steady on us all night, an' we'll store up enough powerto be sure o' reachin' 1876 in one clip."

  "Well," said Rebecca, "ef thet's the plan, I'm goin' to bed right now.It's after eight o'clock, an' I didn't get to sleep las' night tillgoodness knows when. Good-night! Hedn't you better go, too, Phoebe?"

  "I guess I will," said Phoebe, turning to Copernicus. "Good-night, Mr.Droop."

  "Good-night, Cousin Phoebe--good-night, Cousin Rebecca. I'll go to bedmyself, I b'lieve."

  The two doors were closed and Droop proceeded to draw the steel shuttersin order to produce artificially the gloom not vouchsafed by atoo-persistent sun.

  In half an hour all were asleep within the now motionless conveyance.