"Thor's hammer!" repeated Maggie. "Poor people!"
"Nobody worships Thor now," observed Esther scornfully.
"We call one of our days after him yet," said Meredith. "There is a relic of the old Thor worship. Indeed all our days are heathenish in name."
"All?" said Flora, looking up. "What is Monday?"
"Just the Moon's day, don't you see? Sunday is the Sun's day. Woden's day and Thor's day, you know. Then Friday is of course Freija's day—or Freyr's day—I don't know which. Freyr was the god of weather and fruits—another impersonation of Odin. He rode through the air on a wild boar, faster than any horse could catch him. An odd steed! And Tuesday is Tyr's day, or Zin's day—it comes to much the same thing. He was especially the 'god of war and of athletic sports.'"
"Then there is Saturday left," said Maggie. "What is Saturday?"
"I think it must have been Saturn's day—and so not Saxon, Maggie, but Roman. The names of our months are all Roman, you know?"
"Are they?"
"Yes, but wait. Here is something curious. The Saxon devil was called Loki. Now Loki had three children. Listen to this. 'One was the huge wolf Fenris, who at the last day shall hurry gaping to the scene of battle, with his lower jaw scraping the earth and his nose scraping the sky.'"
"What is curious in that?" asked Flora. "It is just like a children's fairy tale."