Sunday morning arrived. The inhabitants of the Attic Villa appeared to hold it in general observance, by keeping their apartments an hour or two later than usual. And this observance extended even to the domestics; for when, at nine o'clock, Mary descended into the little apartment, where she had usually sat when alone, she found it just as it had been left the preceding day; and presently the house-maid appeared, rubbing her eyes, and saying, ‘Lord bless'ee, Miss, I didn't think as how you would be up yet, as 'twas Sunday.’ ‘That was the very reason which impelled me,’ said Mary; ‘I thought I would walk to Mrs. Deborah Moreton's, and go to church with her, if Miss Moreton does not go herself.’

‘Oh no, Miss Moreton never goes,’ said the maid; ‘she doesn't much hold with church-going; and the company as visits here be most of 'em Meetingers and Romans, I believe, for they never goes none of ‘em to church.’

‘But surely the servants go,’ said Mary. ‘Law, Miss, how can us? Now think if the family is all of 'em in bed, how is it possible to be done?’

‘But in the afternoon?’

‘Why, Miss, just as evening prayers goes in, cook must set about getting her dinner; and we be well worked all of us in the week; and we likes a little rest one day in seven; though, for my pertickler part, I should have no objections to go to church once a day myself, for I'm a church of England, born and bred to it all my life; I don't hold with the Methodists at all.