by Anthology
"Oh, dear! 'F I could only see ye, Phoebe!" cried Rebecca. "I know he's a mis'able deceivin' man, but if--if--oh, Phoebe, can't ye holler!"
"It's April 8th--good-bye!" Phoebe said, faintly.
"Phoebe--Phoebe!"
"Hurray--hurray! It's March 31st, and here I am!"
Phoebe tried to clap her hands, but the effort was in vain.
"I allus said it was folderol," said Rebecca, sternly. "Oh, but I'd like to throw somethin' at that Copernicus Droop!"
"Come to think of it," said Droop, "that future man must hev come back long, long before his birthday."
"Why didn't ye say that sooner?" cried Rebecca.
There was no further conversation until long afterward, when Rebecca suddenly remarked:
"Aren't ye hungry, Phoebe?"
"Why, it's gettin' along to dinner-time, ain't it?" she replied. "I don't see, though, how I'm to get any victuals, do you?"
"Why, the's bread an' other scraps slammed up against the wall here all round me," said Rebecca. "Couldn't we fix some way to get some of 'em to ye?"
Phoebe looked anxiously about and finally caught sight of her sister's knitting work near at hand. It proved to be just within reach, and by slow degrees and much effort she brought it into her lap within easy reach of both her heavy hands.
"Oh, dear!" she said, "I feel's if both my arms had turned to lead. Here, Rebecca, I'm goin' to see if I can roll your ball o' yarn along the floor through the kitchen door. The centrifugal force will bring it to you. Then you can cut the yarn an' tie somethin' on the end for me to eat an' I'll haul it back through the door."
"That's jest the thing, Phoebe. Go on--I'm ready."
The theory seemed excellent, as Rebecca had fortunately been working with a very tough flaxen yarn; but so great was the apparent weight of Phoebe's arms that it was only after a long series of trials ending in failures that she finally succeeded.
"I've got it!" cried Rebecca, triumphantly. "Now, then, I've got a slice of ham and two slices of bread----"
"Don't send ham," said Phoebe. "I'd be sure to eat it if I had it, an' 'twould make me fearful dry. I'm sure I don't see how I'm to get any water in here."
"Thet's so," said Rebecca. "Well, here's an apple and two slices of bread."
"Are you keepin' enough for yourself, Rebecca?"
"Enough an' to spare," she replied. "Now, then--all ready! Pull 'em along!"
Phoebe obeyed and soon had secured possession of the frugal meal which Rebecca had been able to convey to her.
She offered a portion of her ration to Droop, but he declined it, saying he had no appetite. He had lapsed into a kind of waking reverie and scarce knew what was going on about him.
The two women also were somewhat stupefied by the continual rotation and their enforced immobility. They spoke but seldom and must have dozed frequently, for Phoebe was much surprised to find, on looking at the clock, that it was half-past five.
She glanced at the date indicator.
"Why, Rebecca!" she cried. "Here 'tis November, 1804!"
"My land!" cried Rebecca, forgetting her scepticism. "What do you s'pose they're doin' in New Hampshire now, Phoebe?"
"It's 'bout election time, Rebecca. They're probably votin' for Adams or Madison or somebody like that."
"My stars!" said Rebecca. "What ever shall we do ef this old machine goes on back of the Revolution! I should hate to go back an' worry through all them terrible times."
"We'll be lucky if we stop there," said Phoebe. "I only hope to gracious we won't go back to Columbus or King Alfred."
"Oh, I hope not!" said Rebecca, with a shudder. "Folks ud think we was crazy to be talkin' 'bout America then."
Phoebe tried to toss her head.
"If 'twas in Alfred's time," she said, "they couldn't understand what we was talkin' about."
"Phoebe Wise! What do you mean?"
"I mean just that. There wasn't any English language then. Besides--who's to say the old thing won't whirl us back to the days of the Greeks an' Romans? We could see Socrates and Pericles and Croesus and----"
"Oh, I'd love to see Croesus!" Rebecca broke in. "He's the richest man that ever lived!"
"Yes--and perhaps we'll go back of then and see Abraham and Noah."
"Ef we could see Noah, 'twould be worth while," said Rebecca. "Joe Forrest said he didn't believe about the flood. He said Noah couldn't hev packed all them animals in tight enough to hev got 'em all in the Ark. I'd like mighty well if I could ask Noah himself 'bout it."
"He couldn't understand ye," said Phoebe. "All he spoke was Hebrew, ye know."
"Oh!" exclaimed Rebecca. Then, after a pause: "S'pose we went back to the tower of Babel. Couldn't we find the folks that was struck with the English language an' get one of 'em to go back an' speak to Noah?"
"What good would that do? If he was struck with English he wouldn't know Hebrew any more. That's what made-- But there!" she exclaimed, "what ninnies we are!"
There was a long pause. After many minutes, Rebecca asked one more question.
"Do you s'pose the flood would come up as fur's this, Phoebe?"
"I don't know, Rebecca. The Bible says the whole earth, you know."
And so passed the slow hours. When they were not dozing they were either nibbling frugally the scant fare in reach or conversing by short snatches at long intervals.
For thirty hours had they thus whirled ceaselessly around that circle, when Phoebe, glancing through the window at the ring to which their rope was attached, noticed that its constant rubbing against the ball at the top of the pole had worn it nearly through.
"My goodness, Rebecca!" she cried. "I believe we're goin' off at a tangent in a minute."
"What? How?"
"The ring on the pole is nigh worn out. I believe it'll break in a minute."
"If it breaks we'll move straight an' get rid o' this side weight, won't we?"
"Yes--but goodness only knows where we'll fly to."
"Why--ain't Mr. Droop there? If the side weight goes, he can get into the engine-room an' let us down easy."
"That's so!" cried Phoebe. "Oh, won't it be grand to stand still a minute after all this traipsin' around and around! Mr. Droop," she continued, "do you hear? You'd better be gettin' ready to take hold an' stop the Panchronicon, 'cause we're goin' to break loose in half no time."
There was no reply. Nor could any calling or pleading elicit an answer. Droop had yielded to his thirst and was again sleeping the sleep of the unregenerate.
"Oh, Rebecca, what-- Oh--oo--oo!"
There was a loud scream from both the sisters as the iron ring, worn through by long rubbing, finally snapped asunder.
The tremendous pressure was suddenly lifted, and the two women were free.
With a single impulse, they flew toward the kitchen door and fell into each other's arms.
The Panchronicon had gone off at a tangent at last!
"Oh, Rebecca--Rebecca!" cried Phoebe, in tears. "I was afraid I'd never see you again!"
Rebecca cried a little too, and patted her sister's shoulder in silence a moment.
"There, deary!" she said, after awhile. "Now let's set down an' hev a good cup o' tea. Then we can go to bed comfortable."
"But, Rebecca," said Phoebe, stepping back and wiping her eyes, "what shall we do about the Panchronicon? We're jest makin' fer Infinite Space, or somewheres, as fast as we can go."
"Can't help it, Phoebe. Ye sha'n't touch a thing in that engine-room this day--not while I'm here. Ye might blow us up the nex' time. No--I guess we'll jest hev to trust in the Lord. He brought us into this pickle, an' it's fer Him to see us out of it."
With this comforting reflection the two sisters brewed a pot of tea, and after partaking of the refreshing decoction, went to their respective beds.
"I declare, I'm dog tired!" said Rebecca.
"So'm I," said Phoebe.
Those were their last words for many hours.
CHAPTER VII
NEW TIE
S AND OLD RELATIONS
How long they slept after their extraordinary experience with the runaway air-ship neither Rebecca nor Phoebe ever knew; but when they awoke all was still, and it was evidently dark outside, for no ray of light found its way past the hangings they had placed over their windows.
There was something uncanny in the total silence. Even the noise of the machinery was stilled, and the two sisters dressed together in Rebecca's room for company's sake.
"Do you suppose we've arrived in Infinite Space yet?" Rebecca asked.
"It's still enough fer it," Phoebe replied, in a low voice. "But I don't hear the Panchronicon's machinery any more. It must have run down entirely, wherever we are."
At that moment there was borne faintly to their ears the distant crowing of a cock.
"Well, there!" said Rebecca, with an expression of immense relief, "I don't believe the's any hens an' roosters in Infinite Space, is the'?"
Phoebe laughed and shook her head as she ran to the window. She drew aside the shawl hanging before the glass and peered out.
The first gleams of dawn were dispelling the night, and against a dark gray sky she saw the branches of thickly crowding trees.
Dropping the shawl, she turned eagerly to her sister.
"Rebecca Wise!" she exclaimed. "As sure as you're alive, we're back safe on the ground again. We're in the woods."
"Mos' likely Putnam's wood lot," said Rebecca, with great satisfaction as she finally adjusted her cameo brooch. "Gracious! Won't I be glad to see all the folks again!"
She pushed open her door and, followed by Phoebe, entered the main room. Here all was gloom, but they could hear Droop's breathing, and knew that he was still sleeping under the table in the corner.
"For the lands sakes! Let's get out in the fresh air," Rebecca exclaimed as she groped her way toward the stairs. "You keep a-holt o' me, Phoebe. That's right. We'll get out o' here an' make rabbit tracks fer home, I tell ye. We can come back later for our duds when that mis'able specimen is sober fer awhile again."
Slowly the two made their way down the winding stairs to the lower hall, where, after much fumbling, they found the door handle and lock.
As they emerged from the prison that had so long confined them, a cool morning zephyr swept their faces, bringing with it once more the well-known voice of distant chanticleer.
They walked across the springing turf a few yards and were then able to make out the looming black mass of some building beyond the end of the air-ship.
"Goodness!" Rebecca whispered. "This ain't Peltonville, Phoebe. There ain't a house in the town as high as that, 'less it's the meetin'-house, an' 'tain't the right shape fer that."
They advanced stealthily toward the newly discovered building, in which not a single light was to be seen.
"In good sooth," Phoebe exclaimed, putting one hand on her sister's arm, "it hath an air of witchcraft! Dost not feel cold chills in thee, Rebecca?"
Rebecca stopped short, stiff with amazement.
"What's come over ye?" she asked, trying to peer into her sister's face. "Whatever makes ye talk like that, child?"
Phoebe laughed nervously and, taking her sister's arm, pressed close up to her.
"I don't know, dear. Did I speak funny?" she asked.
"Why you know you did. What's the use o' tryin' to scare a body with gibberish? This place is creepy 'nough now."
As she spoke, they reached the door of the strange building. They could see that it stood open, and even as they paused near the threshold another puff of air passed them, and they heard a door squeak on its rusty hinges.
They stood and listened breathlessly, peering into the dark interior whence there was borne to their nostrils a musty odor. A large bat whisked across the opening, and as they started back alarmed he returned with swift zig-zag cuts and vanished ghostlike into the house.
"It's deserted," whispered Rebecca.
"Perhaps it's haunted," Phoebe replied.
"Well, we needn't go in, I guess," said Rebecca, turning from the door and starting briskly away. "Come on this way, Phoebe--look out fer the trees--lands! Did y'ever see so many?"
A few steps brought them to a high brick wall, against which flowers, weeds, and vines grew rank together. They followed this wall, walking more rapidly, for the day was breaking in earnest and groping was needless now. Presently they came to a spot where the wall was broken away, leaving an opening just broad enough to admit a man's body. Rebecca squeezed boldly through and Phoebe followed her, rather for company's sake than with any curiosity to see what was beyond.
They found themselves in a sort of open common, stretching to the edge of a broad roadway about a hundred yards from where they stood. On the other side of the road a cluster of gabled cottages was visible against the faint rose tint of the eastern sky.
As Phoebe came to her sister's side, she clutched her arm excitedly:
"Rebecca!" she exclaimed. "'Tis Newington, as true as I live! Newington and Blackman Street!"
Suddenly she sat down in the grass and hid her face in her hands.
"What d'ye mean?" said Rebecca, looking down at her sister with a puzzled expression. "Where's Newington--I never heerd tell of Blackman Street. Air ye thinkin' of Boston, or----"
Phoebe interrupted her by leaping to her feet and starting back to the opening in the wall.
"Come back, Rebecca!" she exclaimed. "Come back quick!"
Rebecca followed her sister in some alarm. Phoebe must have been taken suddenly ill, she thought. Perhaps they had reached one of those regions infected by fevers of which she had heard from time to time.
In silence the two women hurried back to the Panchronicon, whose uncouth form was now quite plainly visible behind the trees into the midst of which it had fallen when the power stored within it was exhausted.
Not until they were safely seated in Rebecca's room did Phoebe speak again.
"There!" she exclaimed, as she dropped to a seat on the edge of the bed, "I declare to goodness, Rebecca, I don't know what to make of it!"
"What is it? What ails ye?" said Rebecca, anxiously.
"Why, I don't believe I'm myself, Rebecca. I've been here before. I know that village out there, and--and--it's all I can do to talk same's I've always been used to. I'm wanting to talk like--like I did awhile back."
"It's all right! It's all right!" said Rebecca, soothingly. "Th' ain't nothing the matter with you, deary. Ye've ben shet up here with side weight an' what not so long--o' course you're not yerself."
She bustled about pretending to set things to rights, but her heart was heavy with apprehension. She thought that Phoebe was in the first stages of delirium.
"Not myself! No," said Phoebe. "No--the fact is, I'm somebody else!"
At this Rebecca straightened up and cast one horrified glance at her sister. Then she turned and began to put on her bonnet and jacket. Her mind was made up. Phoebe was delirious and they must seek a doctor--at once.
"Get your things on, Phoebe," she said, striving to appear calm. "Put on your things an' come out with me. Let's see if we can't take a little exercise."
Phoebe arose obediently and went to her room. They were neither of them very long about their preparations, and by the time the sun was actually rising, the two women were leaving the air-ship for the second time, Phoebe carrying the precious carved box and Rebecca her satchel and umbrella.
"What you bringin' that everlastin' packet o' letters for?" Rebecca asked, as they reached the opening in the wall.
"I want to have it out in the light," Phoebe replied. "I want to see something."
Outside of the brick wall she paused and opened the box. It was empty.
"I thought so!" she said.
"Why, ye've brought the box 'thout the letters, Phoebe," said Rebecca. "You're not agoin' back for them, air ye?"
"No," Phoebe replied, "'twouldn't do any good. Rebecca. They aren't there."
She dropped the box in the grass and looked wistfully about her.
/> "Not there!" said Rebecca, nonplussed. "Why, who'd take 'em?"
"Nobody. They haven't been written yet."
"Not--not--" Rebecca gasped for a moment and then hurried toward the road. "Come on!" she cried.
Surely, she thought--surely they must find a doctor without delay.
But before they reached the road, Rebecca was glad to pause again and take advantage of a friendly bush from whose cover she might gaze without being herself observed.
The broad highway which but so short a time ago was quite deserted, was now occupied by a double line of bustling people--young and old--men, women, and children. Those travelling toward their left, to the north, were principally men and boys, although now and then a pair of loud-voiced girls passed northward with male companions. Those who were travelling southward were the younger ones, and often whole families together. Among these the women predominated.
All of these people were laughing--calling rough jokes back and forth--singing, running, jumping, and dancing, till the whole roadway appeared a merry Bedlam.
"Must be a county fair near here!" exclaimed Rebecca. "But will ye listen to the gibberish an' see their clothes!"
Indeed, the language and the costumes were most perplexing to good New England ears and eyes, and Rebecca knew not whether to advance or to retreat.
The women all wore very wide and rather short skirts, the petticoat worn exposed up to where a full over-skirt or flounce gave emphasis to their hips. The elder ones wore long-sleeved jackets and high-crowned hats, while the young ones wore what looked like low-necked jerseys tied together in front and their braided hair hung from uncovered crowns.
The men wore short breeches, some full trunk hose, some tighter but puffed; their jackets were of many fashions, from the long-skirted open coats of the elders to the smart doublets or shirts of the young men.
The children were dressed like the adults, and most of them wore wreaths and garlands of flowers, while in the hands of many were baskets full of posies.
Phoebe gazed from her sister's side with the keenest delight, saying nothing, but turning her eyes hither and thither as though afraid of losing the least detail of the scene.
Presently two young girls approached, each with a basket in her hand. They moved slowly over the grass, stopping constantly to pick the violets under their feet. They were so engrossed in their task and in their conversation that they failed to notice the two sisters half hidden by the shrubbery.