"Thet's a good idea," said Droop. "You fix yer rooms an' I'll do some figurin'. Ye see I've got to figure out how long it'll take us to get back six years. I've a notion it'll take about eighteen hours, but I ain't certain sure."
Poor Rebecca set to work in her rooms with far from enviable feelings. Her curiosity had been largely satisfied and the unwonted conditions were proving very trying indeed. Could she have set out with the prospect of returning to those magical days of youth and courtship, as Droop had originally proposed, the end would have justified the means. But they could not do this now if they would, for Phœbe had left her baby clothes behind. Thus her disappointment added to her burdens, and she found herself wishing that she had never left her comfortable home, however amazing had been her adventures.
"I could'v aired my bed at least," she muttered, as she turned the mattress of her couch in the solitude of her chamber.
She found the long-accustomed details of chamber work a comfort and solace, and, as she finally gazed about the tidy room at her completed work, she felt far more contented with her lot than she had felt before beginning.
"I guess I'll go help Phœbe," she thought. "The girl is that slow!"
As she came from her room she found Copernicus leaning over the table, one hand buried in his hair and the other wielding a pencil. He was absorbed in arithmetical calculations.
She did not disturb him, but turned and entered Phœbe's room without the formality of knocking. As she opened the door, there was a sharp clatter, as of a door or lid slamming.
"Who's there?" cried Phœbe, sharply.
She was seated on the floor in front of her trunk, and she looked up at her sister with a flushed and startled face.
"Oh, it's you!" she said, guiltily.