along to dinner-time, ain't it?" she replied. "I
don't see, though, how I'm to get any victuals, do you?"

"Why, the's bread an' other scraps slammed up against the wall here all
round me," said Rebecca. "Couldn't we fix some way to get some of 'em to
ye?"

Phoebe looked anxiously about and finally caught sight of her sister's
knitting work near at hand. It proved to be just within reach, and by
slow degrees and much effort she brought it into her lap within easy
reach of both her heavy hands.

"Oh, dear!" she said, "I feel's if both my arms had turned to lead.
Here, Rebecca, I'm goin' to see if I can roll your ball o' yarn along
the floor through the kitchen door. The centrifugal force will bring it
to you. Then you can cut the yarn an' tie somethin' on the end for me to
eat an' I'll haul it back through the door."

"That's jest the thing, Phoebe. Go on--I'm ready."

The theory seemed excellent, as Rebecca had fortunately been working
with a very tough flaxen yarn; but so great was the apparent weight of
Phoebe's arms that it was only after a long series of trials ending in
failures that she finally succeeded.

"I've got it!" cried Rebecca, triumphantly. "Now, then, I've got a slice
of ham and two slices of bread----"

"Don't send ham," said Phoebe. "I'd be sure to eat it if I had it, an'
'twould make me fearful dry. I'm sure I don't see how I'm to get any
water in here."

"Thet's so," said Rebecca. "Well, here's an apple and two slices of
bread."

"Are you keepin' enough for yourself, Rebecca?"

"Enough an' to spare," she replied. "Now, then--all ready! Pull 'em
along!"

Phoebe obeyed and soon had secured possession of the frugal meal which
Rebecca had been able to convey to her.

She offered a portion of her ration to Droop, but he declined it, saying
he had no appetite. He had lapsed into a kind of waking reverie and
scarce knew what was going on about him.

The two women also were somewhat stupefied by the continual rotation and
their enforced immobility. They spoke but seldom and must have dozed
frequently, for Phoebe was much surprised to find, on looking at the
clock, that it was half-past five.

She glanced at the date indicator.

"Why, Rebecca!" she cried. "Here 'tis November, 1804!"

"My land!" cried Rebecca, forgetting her scepticism. "What do you s'pose
they're doin' in New Hampshire now, Phoebe?"

"It's 'bout election time, Rebecca. They're probably votin' for Adams or
Madison or som