midday
`` Every house in this road is a twin , '' said Mhor , `` except The Rigs . It 's different from every other house . '' They were coming home from a long walk , laden with spoils from the woods : moss for the bowls of bulbs , beautiful bare branches such as Jean loved to stand in blue jars against the creamy walls . Mhor and Peter had been coursing about like two puppies , covering at least four times the ground their elders covered , and were now lagging , weary-footed , much desiring their midday meal . `` I do n't know , '' said Jean , pondering on the subject of neighbours , `` how you could manage to be friends with them . You see , they are busy people and -- it sounds very rude -- they have n't time to be bothered with you . Just smile tentatively when you see them and pass the time of day casual-like ; you would soon get friendly .