"

Reluctantly Phoebe left the window and Droop soon had the satisfaction
of sauntering back and forth between kitchen and dining-table in pleased
supervision of the progress of both.

In due time a simple but substantial breakfast was in readiness, and
the three travellers were seated around the table partaking of the meal
each in his own way.

Droop was business-like, almost enthusiastic, in his voracious hunger.
Rebecca ate moderately and without haste, precisely as though seated in
the little Peltonville cottage. Phoebe ate but little. She was
overcome by the wonders she had seen, realizing for the first time the
marvellous situation in which she found herself.

It was not until the table was cleared and the two women were busy with
the dishes that conversation was resumed. Droop sat with his chair
tilted backward against the kitchen wall enjoying a quiet satisfaction
with his lot and a kindly mental attitude toward all men.

He glanced through the kitchen door at the barometer on the wall in the
outer room.

"We've climbed near a mile since before breakfast," he remarked.

Rebecca paused before hanging up the soap-shaker.

"Look here, Mr. Droop," she said, anxiously, "we are mos' too high
a'ready, I think. S'posin' we was to fall down. Where do you s'pose we'd
be?"

"Why, Rebecca," said Phoebe, laughing, "do you suppose five miles is
any worse than four? I guess we'd be killed by falling one mile jest as
quick as five."

"Quicker!" Droop exclaimed. "Considerable quicker, Cousin Rebecca, fer
it would take us a good deal longer to fall five miles than it would
one."

"But what ever's the use o' keepin' on a-climbin'?"

"Why, that's the nature of this machine," he replied. "Ye see, it runs
on the rocket principle by spurtin' out gases. Ef we want to go up off
the ground we squirt out under the machine an' that gives us a h'ist.
Then, when we get 'way up high, we spread out a pair o' big wings like
and start the propeller at the stern end o' the thing. Now them wings
on'y holds us up by bein' inclined a mite in front, and consequence is
we're mighty apt to climb a little right 'long."

"Well, but won't we get too high?" suggested Phoebe. "Ain't the air
too thin up very high?"

"Of course, we mustn't go too high," Droop conceded, "an' I was just
a-thinkin' it wouldn't go amiss to let down a spell."

He rose and started for the engine-room.

"How do you let down?" Phoebe asked, pausing in her work.