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! I hoped that the children would pass us by, and would go to a large group of fishermen standing on the shore just beyond us. But I was not to escape thus. Marjorie came up to Tom and presented him with a paper, and she was going to give one to me, but my little friend stopped her, 'No, no, Marjorie,' he said in his most fascinating tones, 'let me give one to my own Mr. Jack. I always give you one my own self, don't I, big Jack?' I patted him on the head and took the paper, but I did not answer, and the children passed on. Tom opened his paper and read it aloud,-- '"There will be a short service on the shore next Sunday morning." Oh, indeed,' he said, 'that's what they're after, is it? Distributing notices for some Methodist meeting. Is that where Christie holds forth?' 'Yes,' I said, 'he preaches every Sunday.' 'Well, Mr. Christie,' he went on, 'you won't have _me_ there to hear you. I hate those canting meetings, don't you, Jack? _Subject_. Ah, he tells us his subject beforehand, does he? Very kind of him, I'm sure! _Subject: Where are you going_? Ah,' said Tom, 'that's soon answered: I'm going to Scarborough, old fellow, and a jolly good day I hope to have there'; and he threw the little pink paper into the air, and the wind carried it far out to sea. [Illustration] All this time I had never spoken a word. A great battle was going on in my heart. Conscience was speaking very loudly, and telling me that I could not possibly take my pleasure on my Master's own day, but the tempter's voice was arguing that the time to speak had not yet come, and that perhaps for this once it would be better to yield to Tom's wishes, and that I might talk to him quietly about it, and make a fresh start after our return to London. And so the day wore away, and evening came, and Tom had no idea whatever that I had even hesitated about going with him to Scarborough. I never spent a more unhappy day. I avoided Mr. Christie, lest he should say anything to me about the service on the following day. I was not even happy with Duncan. Tom had gone off to Saltburn, leaving me, as he supposed, to put some finishing touches to my picture; but I had no heart for painting, and only got my easel and painting materials out to put them away again directly.