"Yes, I s'pose they would."
Copernicus was pacing slowly up and down from range to china-closet and back, rubbing his hands slowly over each other.
"I wish't you'd try to see ef ye couldn't change yer mind, Cousin Phœbe," he said, earnestly. "Jest think of all there is in this extrordnery vessel—what with kitchen an' little cunnin' state-rooms—what with the hull machinery an' all—it's a sinful waste to leave it all to rot away down in this here swamp when we might all go back to the Centennial an' get rich as—as Solomon's temple!"
Phœbe led the way in silence to the outer room again, and Droop carefully extinguished the lights in the kitchen and engine-room.
As the three stood together under the main chandelier their faces were the exponents of three different moods.
Droop was wistful—anxious.
Rebecca looked grimly regretful.
In Phœbe's eyes there shone a cheerful light—but her expression was enigmatic.
"Now let's go home," she said, briskly. "I've got somethin' that I want to talk to Rebecca about. Can't you call in to-morrow mornin', Mr. Droop?"
"Don't ye believe ye might change yer mind?" he asked, mournfully.