“Well, ah—I don't know. Perhaps—we hadn't better begin this evening.”
Staniford laughed at Dunham's embarrassment. “You might have a sacred concert, and Mr. Hicks could represent the shawms and cymbals with his flute.”
Dunham looked sorry for Staniford's saying this. Captain Jenness stared at him, as if his taking the names of these scriptural instruments in vain were a kind of blasphemy, and Lydia seemed puzzled and a little troubled.
“I didn't think of its being Sunday,” said Hicks, with what Staniford felt to be a cunning assumption of manly frankness, “or any more Sunday than usual; seems as if we had had a month of Sundays already since we sailed. I'm not much on religion myself, but I shouldn't like to interfere with other people's principles.”
Staniford was vexed with himself for his scornful pleasantry, and vexed with the others for taking it so seriously and heavily, and putting him so unnecessarily in the wrong. He was angry with Dunham, and he said to Hicks, “Very just sentiments.”
“I am glad you like them,” replied Hicks, with sullen apprehension of the offensive tone.
Staniford turned to Lydia. “I suppose that in South Bradfield your Sabbath is over at sundown on Sunday evening.”
“That used to be the custom,” answered the girl. “I've heard my grandfather tell of it.”
“Oh, yes,” interposed Captain Jenness. “They used to keep Saturday night down our way, too. I can remember when I was a boy. It came pretty hard to begin so soon, but it seemed to kind of break it, after all, having a night in.”
The captain did not know what Staniford began to laugh at. “Our Puritan ancestors knew just how much human nature could stand, after all. We did not have an uninterrupted Sabbath till the Sabbath had become much milder. Is that it?”