is bewilderment and
surprise were intense when he discovered his situation.

Shutting his eyes again, he remarked:

"What you flashin' that bright light in my eyes so often for?"

Phoebe gave vent to a gentle sniff of contempt.

"My--my--my!" Droop continued, in meek amazement. "I s'pose I must hev
taken two whole bottles. I never, never felt so heavy's this before!
What's the old Pan lyin' on it's side fer?"

"'Tain't on its side," snapped Phoebe. "The old thing's run away,
Copernicus Droop, an' it's all your fault." There was a quiver in her
voice.

"Run away!" said Droop, opening his eyes again. "Where to?"

"Nowheres--jest whirlin'. Only it's goin' a mile a second, I do
believe--an' it'll fly off the pole soon--an'--an' we'll all be killed!"
she cried, bursting into tears.

She dragged her hands with great difficulty to her face against which
she found them pressed with considerable energy. Crying under these
circumstances was so very unusual and uncomfortable that she soon gave
it up.

"Oh, I see! It's the side weight holds me here. Where are you?"

There was no reply, so he turned his head and eyes this way and that
until at length he spied Phoebe on the settle, farther forward.

"Am I under the table?" he said. "Where's Cousin Rebecca? Was she
pressed out through the wall?"

"I'm out here in the kitchen, Copernicus Droop," she cried. "I wish to
goodness you'd ben pressed in through the walls of the lock-up 'fore
ever ye brought me'n Phoebe into this mess. Ef you're a man or half
one, you'll go and stop this pesky old Panchronicle an' give us a chance
to move."

"How can I go?" he cried, peevishly. "What the lands sakes did you go
an' make the machine run away for? Couldn't ye leave the machinery
alone?"

"I didn't touch your old machine!" cried Rebecca. "Phoebe thought we'd
be twisted back of our first birthday ef the thing wasn't stopped, an'
she pulled the handle the wrong way, that's all!"

Droop rolled his eyes about eagerly for a glimpse of the date indicator.

"What's the date, Cousin Phoebe?" he asked.

"April 4, 1884--no, April 3d--2d--oh, dear, it's goin' back so fast I
can't tell ye the truth about it!"

"Early in 1884," Droop repeated, in awe-struck accents. "An' we're
a-whirlin' off one day every second--just about one year in six minutes.
Great Criminy crickets! When was you born, Cousin Phoebe?"

"Second of April, 1874."

"Ten years. One year in six minutes--gives ye jest o