Every evening Tom and I walked together, and we explored all the country for miles around.  Sometimes we went by train and walked back by the cliffs.  The train seemed to land us at each station in the midst of fresh beauty, and I came to the conclusion that Yorkshire was indeed, what I had always been told by my mother, the most beautiful county in England.

‘Now, Jack,’ said Tom on Saturday morning, ’we’ll have a really good day to-morrow.  You won’t want to paint, will you?’

‘No,’ I said hurriedly, ‘I don’t paint on Sundays.’

‘All right,’ he said, ’it’s much the best plan; you come fresher to it on Monday.  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”  That old couplet must have been made for you, Jack.  Well, then, let’s see, where shall we go?  Suppose we make a long day of it, and go to Scarborough.  We must see Scarborough before we go home, must we not?  We will go by the early train, and come back as late as we can.  The worst of it is there are not so many trains to choose from on Sunday, but I daresay we shall find one that will suit’; and, without saying another word, he went off to my lodging for a Bradshaw.

What was I to do?  A few weeks ago a Sunday spent in pleasure would have been just what I should have chosen, and many a time had Tom and I been up the river on Sunday together.  There was hardly 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!