midnight
There had been target-shooting at Uncle Jerry 's mill to see who should drink old Jeb Mullins 's moonshine and who should smell , and so good was the marksmanship that nobody went without his dram . The carousing , dancing , and fighting were about all over , and now , twelve days later , it was the dawn of `` old Christmas , '' and St. Hilda sat on the porch of her Mission school alone . The old folks of Happy Valley pay puritan heed to `` old Christmas . '' They eat cold food and preserve a solemn demeanor on that day , and they have the pretty legend that at midnight the elders bloom and the beasts of the field and the cattle in the barn kneel , lowing and moaning . The sun was just rising and the day was mild , for a curious warm spell , not uncommon in the hills , had come to Happy Valley . Already singing little workers were `` toting rocks '' from St. Hilda 's garden , corn-field , and vineyard , for it was Monday , and every Monday they gathered -- boys and girls -- from creek and hillside , to help her as volunteers . Far up the road she heard among them taunting laughter and jeers , and she rose quickly .