noon
Amen ! -- Harris ! Light the gas . '' Mercer 's daylight was always more or less wan ; but in the autumn the yellow fogs seemed to press the low-hanging smoke down into the great bowl of the hills at the bottom of which the town lay , and the wanness scarcely lightened , even at high noon . On such days the gas in the dining-room -- or office , if one prefers to call it so -- flared from breakfast until dinner time . It flared now on two scared little faces . Once Blair lifted questioning eyebrows at Harris , and managed when the man brought his plate of porridge to whisper , `` mad ? ''