noon
`` Faith , it makes one sick , '' she thought . `` We tell our children the tales of the Red Branch Knights -- of King Arthur and the Knights of the Grail -- and rejoice afresh over the beauty and wonder of them ; we stand by the hour worshiping at the pictures of the saints -- simple men and women who just went about doing kindness ; and we read the Holy Book -- the tales of Christ with his fishermen , wandering about , looking for some good deed to do , some helpfulness to give , some word of good cheer to speak ; and we pray , ` Father , make us good -- even as Thou wert . ' And what does it all mean ? We hurry through the streets afeared to stop on the corner and succor a stranger , or ashamed to speak a friendly word to a troubled soul in a tram-car ; and we go home at night and lock our doors so that the beggar who asked for a bit of bread at noon ca n't come round after dark and steal the silver . '' Patsy sighed regretfully -- if only this were olden times she would not be dreading to find Arden now and the man she was seeking there . The tinker caught the sigh and looked over at her with a puzzled frown . `` Tired ? ''