Pratol on this very day,
      last year, to pay my parting respects.”

      UNCLE. “Yes, yes, yes—I remember it very well—very queer indeed! Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence,
      indeed! Just what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an
      extraordinary concurrence of events. Doctor Dub—”

      KATE. (Interrupting.) “To be sure, papa, it is something strange;
      but then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn’t go
      altogether the same route, and that makes a difference, you
      know.”

      UNCLE. “I don’t know any such thing, you huzzy! How should I? I
      think it only makes the matter more remarkable, Doctor Dubble L.
      Dee—”

      KATE. “Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Cape Horn, and Captain
      Smitherton doubled the Cape of Good Hope.”

      UNCLE. “Precisely!—the one went east and the other went west, you
      jade, and they both have gone quite round the world. By the by,
      Doctor Dubble L. Dee—”

      MYSELF. (Hurriedly.) “Captain Pratt, you must come and spend the
      evening with us to-morrow—you and Smitherton—you can tell us all
      about your voyage, and we’ll have a game of whist and—”

      PRATT. “Wist, my dear fellow—you forget. To-morrow will be
      Sunday. Some other evening—”

      KATE. “Oh, no, fie!—Robert’s not quite so bad as that. To-day’s
      Sunday.”

      PRATT. “I beg both your pardons—but I can’t be so much mistaken. I know to-morrow’s Sunday, because-”

      SMITHERTON. (Much surprised.) “What are you all thinking about? Wasn’t yesterday, Sunday, I should like to know?”

      ALL. “Yesterday indeed! you are out!”

      UNCLE. “To-day’s Sunday, I say—don’t I know?”

      PRATT. “Oh no!—to-morrow’s Sunday.”

      SMITHERTON. “You are all mad—every one of you. I am as positive
      that yesterday was Sunday as I am that I sit upon this chair.”

      KATE. (Jumping up eagerly.) “I see it—I see it all. Papa, this is
      a judgment upon you, about—about you know what. Let me alone, and
      I’ll explain it all in a minute. It’s a very simple thing,
      indeed. Captain Smitherton says that yesterday was Sunday: so it
      was; he is right. Cousin Bobby, and uncle and I say that to-day
      is Sunday: so it is; we are right. Captain Pratt maintains that
      to-morrow will be Sunday: so it will; he is right, too. The fact
      is, we are all right, and thus three Sundays have come together
      in a week.”

      SMITHERTON. (After a pause.) “By the by, Pratt, Kate has us
      completely. What fools we two are! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter
      stands thus: the earth, you know, is twenty-four thousand miles
      in circumference. Now this globe of the earth turns upon its own
      axis—revolves—spins round—these twenty-four thousand miles of
      extent, going from west to east, in precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr. Rumgudgeon?—”

      UNCLE. “To be sure—to be sure—Doctor Dub—”

      SMITHERTON. (Drowning his voice.) “Well, sir; that is at the rate
      of one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from
      this position a thousand miles east. Of course I anticipate the
      rising of the sun here at London by just one hour. I see the sun
      rise one hour before you do. Proceeding, in the same direction,
      yet another thousand miles, I anticipate the rising by two
      hours—another thousand, and I anticipate it by three hours, and
      so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and back to this
      spot, when, having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I
      anticipate the rising of the London sun by no less than
      twenty-four hours; that is to say, I am a day in advance of your
      time. Understand, eh?”

      UNCLE. “But Double L. Dee—”

      SMITHERTON. (Speaking very loud.) “Captain Pratt, on the
      contrary, when he had sailed a thousand miles west of this
      position, was an hour, and when he had sailed twenty-four
      thousand miles west, was twenty-four hours, or one day, behind
      the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday was Sunday—thus,
      with you, to-day is Sunday—and thus, with Pratt, to-morrow will
      be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgudgeon, it is positively
      clear that we are all right; for there can be no philosophical
      reason assigned why the idea of one of us should have preference
      over that of the other.”

      UNCLE. “My eyes!—well, Kate—well, Bobby!—this is a judgment upon
      me, as you say. But I am a man of my word—mark that! you shall
      have her, boy, (plum and all), when you please. Done up, by Jove! Three Sundays all in a row! I’ll go, and take Dubble L. Dee’s