"But 'tain't that, Phœbe," said Rebecca, with great concern. "I ain't sendin' ye to bed—but—but—whatever else can ye do with a man in the house!"
"Nothin'," Phœbe replied, with a toss of her chin.
She crossed the room and held out her hand to Droop.
"Good-night, Mr. Droop," she said.
Surprised at this sudden demonstration of friendship, he took her hand and tipped his head to one side as he looked into her face.
"Next time you see me, I don't suppose you'll know me, I'll be so little," she said, trying to laugh.
"I—I wish't you'd call me Cousin Copernicus," he said, coaxingly.
"Well, p'raps I will when I see ye again," she replied, freeing her hand with a slight effort.
Rebecca retired shortly after her sister and Copernicus was once more left alone. He rubbed his hands slowly, with a sense of satisfaction, and glanced at the date dial.
"July 2, 1892," he said to himself. "I'm only thirty-four years old. Don't feel any older than that, either."