The next day they were too weary to set forth again. It was Sunday, a week from the day that Hugh had come through the forest from Rudolm. The day came somewhat as a surprise to him, for he had quite forgotten that there were such things as calendars and days of the week. He noticed that Oscar slept later that morning and reduced the household tasks of both of them to as few as possible. He did not however suspect any other reason beyond weariness until, at the end of the afternoon, he came out to go to the spring for water and found his friend seated on the doorstone, reading his Bible in the thorough, painstaking manner with which he did everything.
“But how do you know when it is Sunday?” Hugh demanded when Oscar explained that this was his weekly custom.
“Why, I keep count,” he replied, “and then I somehow think that I ought to feel that it is Sunday in the air. Doesn’t it look like a Sunday to-day?”
Now that Hugh thought of the matter it did.
