beauty of the day when the authority which set it apart is no longer
recognized?--Imagine a bank-holiday once a week!



V.


On Sunday I come down later than usual; I make a change of dress, for it
is fitting that the day of spiritual rest should lay aside the livery of
the laborious week. For me, indeed, there is no labour at any time, but
nevertheless does Sunday bring me repose. I share in the common
tranquillity; my thought escapes the workaday world more completely than
on other days.

It is not easy to see how this house of mine can make to itself a Sunday
quiet, for at all times it is well-nigh soundless; yet I find a
difference. My housekeeper comes into the room with her Sunday smile;
she is happier for the day, and the sight of her happiness gives me
pleasure. She speaks, if possible, in a softer voice; she wears a
garment which reminds me that there is only the lightest and cleanest
housework to be done. She will go to church, morning and evening, and I
know that she is better for it. During her absence I sometimes look into
rooms which on other days I never enter; it is merely to gladden my eyes
with the shining cleanliness, the perfect order, I am sure to find in the
good woman's domain. But for that spotless and sweet-smelling kitchen,
what would it avail me to range my books and hang my pictures? All the
tranquillity of my life depends upon the honest care of this woman who
lives and works unseen. And I am sure that the money I pay her is the
least part of her reward. She is such an old-fashioned person that the