‘O yes,’ he replied, with a hypothetical gaze into the stream; ‘some solution of course—an equatorial, for instance.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Briefly, an impossibility. It is a splendid instrument, with an object lens of, say, eight or nine inches aperture, mounted with its axis parallel to the earth’s axis, and fitted up with graduated circles for denoting right ascensions and declinations; besides having special eye-pieces, a finder, and all sorts of appliances—clock-work to make the telescope follow the motion in right ascension—I cannot tell you half the conveniences. Ah, an equatorial is a thing indeed!’
‘An equatorial is the one instrument required to make you quite happy?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘But, Lady Constantine,’ cried the amazed astronomer, ‘an equatorial such as I describe costs as much as two grand pianos!’
She was rather staggered at this news; but she rallied gallantly, and said, ‘Never mind. I’ll make inquiries.’
‘But it could not be put on the tower without people seeing it! It would have to be fixed to the masonry. And there must be a dome of some kind to keep off the rain. A tarpaulin might do.’
Lady Constantine reflected. ‘It would be a great business, I see,’ she said. ‘Though as far as the fixing and roofing go, I would of course consent to your doing what you liked with the old column. My workmen could fix it, could they not?’