sister Phoebe with her face buried in a mug
of ale!

CHAPTER VIII

HOW FRANCIS BACON CHEATED THE BAILIFFS

It was at about this time that Copernicus Droop finally awakened. He lay
perfectly still for a minute or two, wondering where he was and what had
happened. Then he began to mutter to himself.

"Machinery's stopped, so we're on dry land," he said. Then, starting up
on one elbow, he listened intently.

Within the air-ship all was perfect silence, but from without there came
in faintly occasional symptoms of life--the bark of a dog, a loud laugh,
the cry of a child.

Droop slowly came to his feet and gazed about. A faint gleam of daylight
found its way past the closed shutters. He raised the blinds and blinked
as he gazed out into a perfect thicket of trees and shrubbery, beyond
which here and there he thought he could distinguish a high brick wall.

"Well, we're in the country, anyhow!" he muttered.

He turned and consulted the date indicator in the ceiling.

"May 1, 1598," he said. "Great Jonah! but we hev whirled back fer
keeps! I s'pose we jest whirled till she broke loose."

He gazed about him and observed that the two state-room doors were open.
He walked over and looked in.

"I wonder where them women went," he said. "Seems like they were in a
tremendous hurry 'bout gettin' way. Lucky 'tain't a city we're in,
'cause they might'v got lost in the city."

After an attempt to improve his somewhat rumpled exterior, he made his
way down the stairs and out into the garden. Once here, he quickly
discovered the building which had arrested the attention of the two
women, but it being now broad daylight, he was able thoroughly to
satisfy himself that chance had brought the Panchronicon into the
deserted garden of a deserted mansion.

"Wal, we'll be private an' cosy here till the Panchronicon hez time to
store up more force," he said out loud.

Strolling forward, he skirted the high wall, and ere long discovered the
very opening through which the sisters had passed at sunrise.

Stepping through the breach, he found himself, as they had done, near
the main London highway in Newington village. The hurly-burly of sunrise
had abated by this time, for wellnigh all the villagers were absent
celebrating the day around their respective May-poles or at bear or
bull-baiting.

With his hands behind him, he walked soberly up and down for a few
minutes, carefully surveying the pretty wooden houses, the chur