CHAPTER XXI.
A DAY OF REST Cecilia's house in the Old Square was steeped from roof to basement in the peculiar atmosphere brought by Sunday to houses whose inmates have no need of religion or of rest.
Neither she nor Stephen had been to church since Thyme was christened; they did not expect to go again till she was married, and they felt that even to go on these occasions was against their principles; but for the sake of other people's feelings they had made the sacrifice, and they meant to make it once more, when the time came.

Each Sunday, therefore, everything tried to happen exactly as it happened on every other day, with indifferent success.

This was because, for all Cecilia's resolutions, a joint of beef and Yorkshire pudding would appear on the luncheon-table, notwithstanding the fact that Mr.Stone--who came when he remembered that it was Sunday--did not devour the higher mammals.
Every week, when it appeared, Cecilia, who for some reason carved on Sundays, regarded it with a frown.

Next week she would really discontinue it; but when next week came, there it was, with its complexion that reminded her so uncomfortably of cabmen.

And she would partake of it with unexpected heartiness.