“‘No,’ said I, ‘upon my word I don’t, and never once thought about it!’
“The Dean looked very sad all at once, and, not being able to see why that should be, I asked what difference it made to us what day it was.
“‘Why, a great deal of difference,’ said the Dean.
“‘How?’ said I.
“‘Why,’ said the Dean, ‘when shall we know when Sunday comes?’
“To be sure, how should we know when Sunday came! I had not thought of that before; but the Dean was differently brought up from me; for, while I had not been taught to care much about such matters, the Dean had, and he looked upon Sunday as a day when nobody should do any sort of work. I believe the Dean had an idea in his head, that, if it was Sunday, and he was frozen half to death already, or starved about as badly, and should refuse to work to save himself from death outright, he would do a virtuous thing in sacrificing himself, and would go straight up to heaven for certain. So I became anxious too, and for the Dean’s sake, if not for my own, I tried hard to recall what day it was.”
“How very queer,” said William, “to forget what day it was! How did it happen? Won’t you tell us that, Captain Hardy?”
“To be sure,” said the obliging Captain,—“as well as I can, that is. Now, do you remember what I told you the other day about the sun shining all the time,—do you remember that, my lad?”
“Yes,” answered William, “of course I do. Goes round and round, that way,” and he whirled his hat about his head.
“Just so,” went on the Captain,—“just so, exactly. Goes round and round, and never sets until the winter comes, and then it goes down, and there it stays all the winter through, and there is constant darkness where the daylight always was before.”