believe anythin'."

"You don't hev to take my word fer it," Droop exclaimed. "Ef you'll come
right along with me this blessed minute, I'll show you the machine right
now."

"I'd jest love to see it," said Rebecca, her coldness all forgotten,
"but it's mos' too late fer this afternoon. There's the supper to get,
you know, an'----"

"But the plan, Rebecca," Phoebe cried. "You've forgotten that I
haven't heard Mr. Droop's plan."

"I wish 't you'd call me 'Cousin Copernicus,'" said Droop, earnestly.
"You know I've sworn off--quit drinkin' now."

Phoebe blushed at his novel proposal and insisted on the previous
question.

"But what is the plan?" she said.

"Why, my idea is this, Cousin Phoebe. I want we should all go back to
1876 again. Thet's the year your sister could hev married Joe Chandler
ef she'd wanted to."

Rebecca murmured something unintelligible, blushing furiously, with her
eyes riveted to her knitting. Phoebe looked surprised.

"You know you could, Cousin Rebecca," Droop insisted. "Now what I say
is, let's go back there. I'll invent the graphophone, the kodak, the
vitascope, an' Milliken's cough syrup an' a lot of other big modern
inventions. Rebecca'll marry Chandler, an' she an' her husband can back
up my big inventions with capital. Why, Cousin Phoebe," he cried, with
enthusiasm, "we'll all hev a million apiece!"

The sentimental side of Droop's plan first monopolized Phoebe's
attention.

"Rebecca Wise!" she exclaimed, turning with mock severity to face her
sister. "Why is it I've never heard tell about this love affair before
now? Why, Joe Chandler's just a _fine_ man. Is it you that broke his
heart an' made him an old bachelor all his life?"

Rebecca must have dropped a stitch, for she turned toward the window
again and brought her knitting very close to her face.

"What brought ye so early to home, Phoebe?" she said. "Warn't there no
Shakespeare meetin' to-day?"

"No. Mis' Beecher was to lead, an' she's been taken sick, so I came
right home. But you can't sneak out of answerin' me like that, Miss
Slyboots," Phoebe continued, in high spirits.

Seating herself on the arm of her sister's chair, she put her arms about
her neck and, bending over, whispered:

"Tell me honest, now, Rebecca, did Joe Chandler ever propose to you?"

"No, he never did!" the elder sister exclaimed, rising suddenly.

"Now, Mr. Droop," she continued, "your hull plan is jest too absurd to
think of----"

Droop