a place within easy
distance up the Thames which we had not visited in this way. But now I
felt very differently about these things. Sunday was my Master's own
day: every moment of it, I felt, must be consecrated to Him. No one had
talked to me about Sunday observance, but my conscience told me very
clearly what was right in the matter. Yet, although I had no doubt as to
what I ought to do in the matter, I am ashamed to say that for some time
I hesitated. Tom would be so terribly disappointed, I said to myself,
and he had been a good friend to me, and I did not want to vex him;
surely there would be no great harm in obliging him this once! Besides,
when I get to Scarborough I may have time to go to church, and then,
after all, where is the difference? I argued with myself; I shall take a
longer journey to church, that is all.

And then Tom came back, full of his plans for the day. He had already
settled the train we were to catch, and he told me that he looked
forward to seeing Scarborough immensely, as his mother had stayed there
a year ago, and she had told him it was the most beautiful
watering-place she had ever visited.

I tried to feel pleased with what Tom had arranged, but in my heart I
was very miserable, and just at that moment who should appear but
Marjorie and Jack, distributing the pink papers containing the
invitation to the service on the shore. I turned away when I saw them
coming. I looked towards the sea, and took my little telescope from my
pocket, that I might seem to be intent on watching a distant steamer.
What would Duncan say? What would Mr. Christie say? What would my little
friend Jack say, when I did not appear at the shore service? And how
shocked they would be when they heard I had gone off for a day's
pleasure!

I hoped that the children would pass us by, and would go to a large
group of fishermen standing on the shore just beyond us. But I was not
to escape thus. Marjorie came up to Tom and presented him with a paper,
and she was going to give one to me, but my little friend stopped her,
'No, no, Marjorie,' he said in his most fascinating tones, 'let me give
one to my own Mr. Jack. I always give you one my own self, don't I, big
Jack?'

I patted him on the head and took the paper, but I did not answer, and
the children passed on. Tom opened his paper and read it aloud,--

'"There will be a short service on the shore next Sunday morning." Oh,
indeed,' he said, 'that's what they're aft