Nearing the house he saw Phoebe 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. Phoebe 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. Phoebe 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 Phoebe, 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!" Phoebe exclaimed, severely, "what _do_ you 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. "Phoebe 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 Phoebe, 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." Phoebe 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 Phoebe broke the silence.