"Whose goin' to keep count?" asked Rebecca, cheerfully. Ah, how different it all seemed now! Every dry detail was of interest.
Phœbe looked up at Droop, who now resumed his seat, somewhat sobered.
"Don't have to keep count," he replied. "See that indicator?" he continued, pointing to a dial in the ceiling which had not been noticed before. "That reads May 3, 1898, now, don't it? Well, it's fixed to keep always tellin' the right date. It counts the whirls we make an' keeps tabs on every day we go backward. Any time all ye hev to do is to read that thing an' it'll tell ye jest what day 'tis."
"Then what do you want to calculate how often to whirl round?" asked Phœbe, in disgusted tones.
"Well, ye see I want to plan out how long it'll take," Droop replied. "I want to go slow so as to avoid side weight—but I don't want to go too slow."
"I see," said Phœbe. "Well, then, how many times a minute did the future man take you when you whirled back five weeks?"
"'Bout two times a minute."
"That's one hundred and twenty times every hour. Did you feel much side weight then?"
"Scarcely any."
"Well, let's see. Divide eight thousand and thirty-five whirls by one hundred and twenty, an' you get sixty-seven hours. So that, ef we go at that rate it'll be two days and nineteen hours 'fore we get back to 1876."