noon
`` Why , the hell architects seem to be planning an extension of the premises , '' drawled Morrison . In the past , each day after lunch , Mac Tavish had been enabled to get back to the sanity of a well-conducted woolen-mill business ; in the peace that descended on the office afternoons he put out of his mind the nightmare of the forenoons and tried not to think too much of what the morrows promised . Stewart Morrison had caused it to be known in Marion that he reserved afternoons for the desk affairs of St. Ronan 's mill . Mac Tavish always brought his lunch ; he cooked it himself in his bachelor apartment and warmed it up in the office over a gas-burner at high noon . While he was brushing the crumbs of an oaten cake off his desk , six men filed in . He knew them well . They were from the Marion Chamber of Commerce ; they made up the Industrial Development Committee .