"Of course, we mustn't go too high," Droop conceded, "an' I was just a-thinkin' it wouldn't go amiss to let down a spell."
He rose and started for the engine-room.
"How do you let down?" Phœbe asked, pausing in her work.
"Why, I jest turn the wings horizontal, ye know, an' then we sink very slow till I incline 'em up again."
He disappeared. Phœbe gave the last of the dishes a brief touch of the dish-towel and then ran into the main room to watch the barometer.
She was much interested to observe a gradual but continual decrease in their altitude. She walked to the window but could see no apparent change, save that they had now passed the sea and only the blue land with silver streaks of river and indigo hill shadows was beneath them.
"How fast do you s'pose we're flyin', Mr. Droop?" she asked.
"There's the speed indicator," he said, pointing to one of the dials on the wall. "Ye see it says we're a-hummin' along at about one hundred an' thirty miles an hour."
"My gracious!" cried Phœbe. "What if we was to hit something!"
"Nothin' to hit," said Droop, with a smile. "Ye see, the's no sort o' use goin' any slower, an' besides, this quick travellin' keeps us warm."