Now this was something which I had planned with, it seemed to me, consummate cleverness. I had thought that on dark nights and stormy nights, when the wind was whining dolefully about the gables, my light in my window might be--well, Jean might like to see it there. Still, it was surely right that Jean should occupy a south room, the same as Marjorie. I was provoked at Marjorie for--for finding me out. "Why, Marjorie, I am surprised," I began, as severely as I could, but Jean cut me short. "I move the adoption of the plan," she said. So I scratched the outline of the shack in the sod with my shovel and began digging a cellar in the centre of the little plot. For a depth of nearly two feet I dug through a brownish-black loam that turned easily and threw clean from the shovel. Then I struck a sticky, yellow clay, and the going was much slower. But by the time we heard Jack's hoarse voice and his tired oxen clicking their hoofs up the trail on the evening of the second day I had succeeded in making a hole which we agreed to call a cellar. The wagon was well loaded with boards and other building material, including the inevitable tarpaper, and the next morning we were about to start construction work when Jack dropped an armful of two-by-fours with a sudden exclamation. "I clean forgot," he said. "They told me in town yesterday that it was Saturday. This must be Sunday." As you know, Jack and I had been brought up with good old Ontario ideas of the sanctity of the Sabbath. It was not surprising that he should drop his burden where he stood, and that his face, when he turned to me, had written on it something almost akin to dismay. "Must be," I said, laying down my shovel. For some moments we stood trying to drink in the significance of the fact, and realizing for the first time what an artificial thing the calendar is. This morning was exactly like the other mornings of the week; a burst of golden dawn, a sea of diamond dew-drops, a rollicking breeze out of the West, a wisp of feathery cloudland far above. There was nothing about it to suggest that it was more holy than its neighbors. "Fact is," said I at last, "I begin to think we must have missed one Sunday altogether." "I'm afraid we did," Jack admitted, contritely. "Let's tell the girls." Accordingly we bore to them the great information. All work was discontinued, and we lounged about, trying to feel good. It was one of the longest days I can remember.