The cows and sheep and work-horses, the dogs, the barn-yard fowls, the very hives of bees at White Farm, seemed to know well enough that it was the Sabbath.

The flowers knew it that edged the kitchen garden, the cherry-tree knew it by the southern wall.

The sunshine knew it, wearing its calm Sunday best.

Sights and sounds attuned themselves.
The White Farm family was home from kirk.

Jenny Barrow and Elspeth put away hood and wide hat of straw, slipped from and shook out and folded on the shelf Sunday gowns and kerchiefs.