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?” The captain had probably no very clear notion of what this meant, but simply felt it to be a critical edge of some sort. “I don't know as you can have too much religion,” he remarked. “I've seen some pretty rough customers in the church, but I always thought, What would they be out of it!” “Very true!” said Staniford, smiling. He wanted to laugh again, but he liked the captain too well to do that; and then he began to rage in his heart at the general stupidity which had placed him in the attitude of mocking at religion, a thing he would have loathed to do. It seemed to him that Dunham was answerable for his false position. “But we shall not see the right sort of Sabbath till Mr. Dunham gets his Catholic church fully going,” he added. They all started, and looked at Dunham as good Protestants must when some one whom they would never have suspected of Catholicism turns out to be a Catholic. Dunham cast a reproachful glance at his friend, but said simply, “I am a Catholic,--that is true; but I do not admit the pretensions of the Bishop of Rome.” The rest of the company apparently could not follow him in making this distinction; perhaps some of them did not quite know who the Bishop of Rome was. Lydia continued to look at him in fascination; Hicks seemed disposed to whistle, if such a thing were allowable; Mr. Watterson devoutly waited for the captain. “Well,” observed the captain at last, with the air of giving the devil his due, “I've seen some very good people among the Catholics.” “That's so, Captain Jenness,” said the first officer. “I don't see,” said Lydia, without relaxing her gaze, “why, if you are a Catholic, you read the service of a Protestant church.” “It is not a Protestant church,” answered Dunham, gently, “as I have tried to explain to you.” “The Episcopalian?” demanded Captain Jenness. “The Episcopalian,” sweetly reiterated Dunham. “I should like to know what kind of a church it is, then,” said Captain Jenness, triumphantly. “An Apostolic church.” Captain Jenness rubbed his nose, as if this were a new kind of church to him. “Founded by Saint Henry VIII. himself,” interjected Staniford.