He had guessed instinctively that, under the circumstances, Rebecca preferred not revealing to Phœbe her own continued interest in the wonderful machine.
The suggestion was vital. Phœbe was in all probability sulking in her own bedroom, and in that event would not quit it for an hour. It seemed now or never.
Rebecca rolled up her knitting work and rose to her feet.
"Jest wait here a spell," she said, rapidly. "I won't be a minute!"
Shortly afterward, two swiftly moving, shadowy figures emerged from the little white gate and turned into a dark lane made more gloomy by overhanging maples. This was the shortest route to Burnham's swamp.
Copernicus was now more hopeful. He could not but feel that, if the elder sister came face to face with his marvellous machine, good must result for his plans. Rebecca walked with nervous haste, dreading Phœbe's possible discovery of this most unconventional conduct.
The night was moonless, and the two stumbled and groped their way down the lane at a pace whose slowness exasperated Rebecca.
"Ef I'd a-known!" she exclaimed, under her breath.
"We're 'most there, Cousin Rebecca," said Copernicus, with deprecating softness. "Here, give me holt o' yer hand while we climb over the wall. Here's Burnham's swamp right now."