So Peter twirled the orange slowly round for the remainder of the evening, though his thoughts were far away with Miss Tyrrell. He was wondering what she could have thought of him, and, worse still, what she would think if she could see him as he was employed at that moment?
"I tell you what we must do, Peter—when you get a little more advanced," said Sophia, enthusiastically, that evening, "we must see if we can't pick up a small second-hand orrery somewhere—it would be so nice to have one!"
"Oh, delightful!" he said, absently.
He was not very clear as to what an orrery was, unless it was the dusty machine that was worked with handles at sundry Assembly-room lectures he had attended in early youth. But of one thing he felt grimly certain—that it was something which would render it necessary to draw more Time Cheques!
