"Why, as sure as shootin', I tell ye, that feller will get jest one day younger fer every two whirls round!"
There was a long and momentous silence. The tremendous suggestion had for the moment bereft both women of all reasoning faculty.
At length the younger sister ventured upon a practical objection.
"But how's he goin' to whirl round as fast as that, Mr. Droop?" she said.
Droop smiled indulgently.
"Et does sound outlandish, when ye think how big the world is. But what if ye go to the North Pole? Ain't all the twenty-four meridians jammed up close together round that part of the globe?"
"Thet's so," murmured Rebecca, "I've seen it many's the time on the map in Phœbe's geography book."
"Sure enough," Droop rejoined. "Then ain't it clear that ef a feller'll jest take a grip on the North Pole an' go whirlin' round it, he'll be cuttin' meridians as fast as a hay-chopper? Won't he see the sun gettin' left behind an' whirlin' the other way from what it does in nature? An' ef the sun goes the other way round, ain't it sure to unwind all the time thet it's ben a-rollin' up?"
Rebecca's ball of yarn fell from her lap at this, and, as she followed it with her eyes, she seemed to see a practical demonstration of Droop's marvellous theory.
Phœbe felt all the tremendous force of Droop's logic, and she flushed with excitement. One last practical objection was obvious, however.