be "bossed around" by her
younger sister, and that if Phoebe wanted to see her she knew where to
find her. This message was delivered to old Mistress Burton, who
refrained from repeating it to her step-daughter. For her own ends, she
thought it best to keep Mistress Mary from her nurse, whose influence
seemed invariably opposed to her own.

Left thus alone, Rebecca had had a hitherto unequalled opportunity for
reflection, and the result of her deliberations was most practical.
Whatever might be said of the inhabitants of London in general, it was
clear to her mind that poor Phoebe was mentally unbalanced.

The only remedy was to lure her into the Panchronicon, and regain the
distant home they ought never to have left.

The first step to be taken was therefore to rejoin Copernicus and see
that all was in readiness. It was her intention then to seek her sister
and, by humoring her delusion and exercising an appropriately benevolent
cunning, to induce her to enter the conveyance which had brought them
both into this disastrous complication. The latter part of this
programme was not definitely formed in her mind, and when she sought to
give it shape she found herself appalled both by its difficulties and by
the probable twists that her conscience would have to undergo in putting
her plan into practice.

"Well, well!" she exclaimed at length. "I'll cross that bridge when I
come to it. The fust thing is to find Copernicus Droop."

It was at about eleven o'clock in the morning of the day after
Phoebe's departure that Rebecca came to this audible conclusion, and
she arose at once to don her jacket and bonnet. This accomplished, she
gathered up her precious satchel and umbrella and approached her
bed-room window to observe the weather.

She had scarcely fixed her eyes upon the muddy streets below her when
she uttered a cry of amazement.

"Good gracious alive! Ef there ain't Copernicus right this minute!"

Out through the inner hall and down the stairs she hurried with short,
shuffling steps, impatient of the clinging rushes on the floor.
Speechless she ran past good Mistress Goldsmith, who called after her in
vain. The only reply was the slam of the front door.

Once in the street, Rebecca glanced sharply up and down. The man she
sought was not in sight, but she shrewdly counted upon his having turned
into Leadenhall Street, toward which she had seen him walking. Thither
she hurried, and to her infinite gratification