Never had the day of rest, always pleasant to her, been more welcome than after this week of excitement and fatigue. She slipped out of bed without waking her mother, and went to the window. How wonderfully calm and quiet everything seemed! The plow-horses, turned out in the field near the house, seemed to know that no work would be required of them this day, and stood with their heads together looking over the gate. The cows were collected in their lane, waiting to be milked and turned out. The cider-press, which had been groaning and creaking for several days, was quiet under its little roof of thatch; the very poultry seemed to make less noise than usual, and a pretty robin was singing his autumn song on the top of the porch. Winifred drew a long breath, and again repeated to herself, "Oh, how glad I am that this is Sunday!" After breakfast and the finishing up of the morning's work, arose the question who was to go to church, and who was to stay at home with Jack. Priscilla volunteered to stay, and was not at all pleased when Jack declared, peevishly, that he didn't want her—he wanted Winnie. "Priscy will just keep scolding at me all the time, and she can't read either. She has to spell all the words. I want Winnie to read to me in the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and about David, and Goliath, and Samson." "Master Jack is very fond of hearing about all sorts of brave doings," said Priscilla. "He takes his bravery out in that way, I think. As for Miss Winnie's new book, 'tis no fit book to read on Sunday, in my opinion. 'Tis more like a fairy tale." "O no, Priscy! It is just as good a Sunday book as 'The Whole Duty of Man,'" said Winifred. "I will explain it all to you, some day." Priscy was still privately of opinion that a book which was so interesting could not possibly be fit for Sunday, but she did not like to contradict Winifred, whom she looked upon as a kind of saint. So she contented herself with declaring that there were no such books when she was young—which was undoubtedly true—and that my Lady Colville (with whom she had once lived, and who was her great authority upon all occasions) had severely reproved my Lady Alice and had kept her upon bread and water for two days because she found her reading in the "Arcadia" on Sunday evening. "The 'Arcadia' is a story-book, I know," said Winifred. "I read out of it to Mrs. Alwright, and it is all about shepherds, and shepherdesses, and knights. That is not at all like the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' Priscy." Priscy could not see the difference, but said she supposed Mrs. Winifred knew best. "Of course she does," said Jack; "and you will stay with me, won't you, Winnie?"