A Nocturnal Evasion

: The Panchronicon

Promptly at the appointed time, Copernicus Droop might 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 Phoebe leaning out of o
e 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.



"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'll take 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 Phoebe'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 Phoebe, 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, Phoebe?" 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'----"



"Phoebe 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 Phoebe 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.

Milliken hadn'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?"



Phoebe 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. What was she

saying!



"No--no!" replied Copernicus. "He'll go on livin'. That's what he will

do. We'll go on havin' lived. Or to put it different--we have gone 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 Phoebe, 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.



Phoebe 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 somebody to 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.

Phoebe 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, Phoebe," 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!" Phoebe 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, Phoebe 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."



Phoebe 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 Phoebe 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 Phoebe. "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 Phoebe. "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 Phoebe. "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 Phoebe, 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 Phoebe, 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," Phoebe 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, Phoebe?"



"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," Phoebe 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.



Phoebe 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!" Phoebe 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 Phoebe.



"But----"



"I must. She'll raise the whole town if I don't."



So saying, Phoebe walked noisily to the door and unlocked it.



"Is that you, Mis' Allen?" she asked.



The door was opened, and Phoebe 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 Phoebe," 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 arm

broke 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, Phoebe 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 Phoebe, 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, Phoebe's sudden outburst was as great a tax upon her nerves as

Mrs. Allen's unwelcome visit. Surely Phoebe 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 Phoebe's apparent perturbation.



Phoebe 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

Phoebe 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 Phoebe. "Come quick or they'll all be here.

Gun and all!"



With her arm full of bundles, Phoebe 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," Phoebe cried. Then, as she reached the

gate and found it fastened: "Here, I can't undo the gate. My hands are

full. Oh, do hurry, Rebecca! We haven't a minute!"



The elder sister locked the front door and started down 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!" Phoebe 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!"



Phoebe 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 Phoebe.



"Yes," said Rebecca, with reproachful sadness; "but I'm afraid you paid

a heavy price fer it, Phoebe!"



"What do you mean?"



"Why, 's fur's I could make out, you told Mis' Allen a deliberate wrong

story, Phoebe Wise."



"What did I say?" said Phoebe, 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?" Phoebe insisted. "Didn't I ask you

ef I hadn't told you I heard a burglar?"



"No, it was a plain downright wrong story, Phoebe, an' you needn't to

try to sneak out of it."



Phoebe 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.



"Phoebe 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 Phoebe. "Where can we put

down all these things? My arms are breakin' off."



"Right here, Cousin Phoebe."



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 Phoebe. "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 their bundles, but

Phoebe 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 Phoebe, 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.



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