"Hurray—hurray! It's March 31st, and here I am!"
Phœbe 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, Phœbe?"
"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?"
Phœbe 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.