Then a clear voice came apparently out of the circumambient air:-- "May I trouble you to look at the barometer ?" She put her head over the car.

Little was hanging at the end of a long rope.

She put her head back again.
In another moment he saw her perplexed, blushing face over the edge,--blissful sight.
"O, please don't think of coming up! Stay there, do!" Little stayed.

Of course she could make nothing out of the barometer, and said so.

Little smiled.
"Will you kindly send it down to me ?" But she had no string or cord.