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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.
There was certainly something inspiring in having a sister who was first corresponding secretary of the Women's Peltonville Association for the Study of Shakespearian History and Literature; and it was simply wonderful how much poetry she could repeat from the pages of her favorite author.
They walked across the springing turf a few yards and were then able to make out the looming black mass of some building beyond the end of the air-ship. "Goodness!" Rebecca whispered. "This ain't Peltonville, Phoebe. There ain't a house in the town as high as that, 'less it's the meetin'-house, an' 'tain't the right shape fer that."
The good old days of brimstone theology were past, and the descendants of the godly Puritans who raised this steeple "in the fear of the Lord," being now deprived of their chief source of fear, found Sunday meetings a bore, and a village pastor an unnecessary luxury. Indeed, there seemed little need of pastoral admonition in such a town as Peltonville Center.
It was about five in the afternoon of the day succeeding her adventure on the Thames, and Rebecca sat near a window overlooking the entrance court. She was completing the knitting upon which she had been engaged when Droop made his first memorable call on her in Peltonville.
Phoebe blushed, but replied quite calmly: "Yes some of them from a young man, but they weren't any of them written to me." "No?" said Droop. "Who was they to 'f I may ask?" "They were all written to this lady." Phoebe held something out for Droop's inspection, and he walked over to take it. He recognized at once the miniature on ivory which he had seen once before in Peltonville.
"Know you Sir Percevall's friend, Lady Rebecca?" asked Elizabeth. "Why, yes, your Majesty. He and I came over together from Peltonville. I believe he's after a patent." "A patent? What mean you? Doth he ask for a patent of nobility a title? Can this be the suit of the fat knight?" "I don't know," said Rebecca. "'Tain't nothin' 'bout nobility, I'm sure, though.
"There, now!" cried Rebecca, "didn't Si Wilkins' boy Sam say he seen a comet in broad daylight last June?" "Thet was us," Droop admitted. "And not a soul believed him," Phoebe remarked. "Well," continued Droop, "to make a long story short, thet future-man whirled me a few times 'round the North Pole unwound jest five weeks o' time, an' back we come to Peltonville a-hummin'!"
Phoebe went to the little bank at Peltonville station and withdrew the entire savings of herself and sister, much to the astonishment and concern of the cashier. She walked all the way to the bank and back alone, for it was obviously necessary to avoid inconvenient questions.
Peltonville Center, New Hampshire, was one of those groups of neatly kept houses surrounding a prettily shaded, triangular common which seem to be characteristic of New England.
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