noon
`` And now , since Gonerilla is no longer a stranger , '' added Madame Petrucci , `` we will leave her to the rustic society of Angiolino while we show Miss Hamelyn our orangery . '' `` And conclude our business ! '' said Bridget Prunty . One day , when Goneril , much browner and rosier for a week among the mountains , came in to lunch at noon , she found no signs of that usually regular repast . The little maid was on her knees polishing the floor ; Miss Prunty was scolding , dusting , ordering dinner , arranging vases , all at once ; strangest of all , Madame Petrucci had taken the oil-cloth cover from her grand piano , and , seated before it , was practising her sweet and faded notes , unheedful of the surrounding din and business . `` What 's the matter ? '' cried Goneril .