"Don't talk about days," Droop objected. "It's sixty-seven hours by the clock—but it's twenty-two years less than no time in days, ye know."
"Sixty-seven hours," said Phœbe. "Well, that ain't so bad, is it? Why not go round twice a minute?"
"We can't air our beds fer three days, Phœbe," said Rebecca.
"But if we go much faster, we'll all be sick with this side weight trouble that Mr. Droop tells about."
"I vote fer twice a minute," said Droop. And so twice a minute was adopted.
"Air ye goin' to start to-night, Mr. Droop?" asked Rebecca.
"Well, no," he replied. "I think it's best to wait till to-morrow. Ye see, the power that runs the Panchronicon is got out o' the sunlight that falls on it. Of course, we're not all run out o' power by a good lot, but we've used considerable, an' I think it's a little mite safer to lie still fer a few hours here an' take in power from the sun. Ye see, it'll shine steady on us all night, an' we'll store up enough power to be sure o' reachin' 1876 in one clip."
"Well," said Rebecca, "ef thet's the plan, I'm goin' to bed right now. It's after eight o'clock, an' I didn't get to sleep las' night till goodness knows when. Good-night! Hedn't you better go, too, Phœbe?"
"I guess I will," said Phœbe, turning to Copernicus. "Good-night, Mr. Droop."
"Good-night, Cousin Phœbe—good-night, Cousin Rebecca. I'll go to bed myself, I b'lieve."