"In truth," said the agent, "she's as obstinate as a pig."
"I do not expect it," replied Angela, feeling that the half-a-crown-an-hour man was really a stupendous nuisance.
"She does not expect it," echoed Mr. Bunker, turning to Rebekah. "What did I tell you? Now you see the effect of my recommendations."
"Take it off the wages," said Rebekah, with an obvious effort, which showed how vital was the importance of the pay. "Take it off the wages, if you like; and, of course, I can't expect to labor for five days and be paid for six; but on the Saturday, which is the Sabbath-day, I do no work therein, neither I, nor my man-servant, nor my maid-servant, nor my ox, nor my ass."
"Neither her man-servant, nor her maid-servant, nor her ox, nor her ass," repeated the agent solemnly.
"There is the Sunday, however," said Angela.
"What have you got to say about Sunday now?" asked Mr. Bunker, with a change of front.
"Of all the days that's in the week," interpolated the sprightly one, "I dearly love but one day—and that's the day——"
Rebekah, impatient of this frivolity, stopped it at once.
"I do as little as I can," she said, "on Sunday, because of the weaker brethren. The Sunday we keep as a holiday."