noon
Roger walked , too , in the country . In other lands , or at least so their poets have it , November is the month of chill and dreariness . But to the city on the Potomac it comes with soft pink morning mists and toward sunset , with amethystine vistas . And if , beyond the city , the fields are frosted , it is frost of a feathery whiteness which melts in the glory of a warmer noon . And if the trees are bare , there is yet pale yellow under foot and pale rose , where the leaves wait for the winter winds which shall whirl them later in a mad dance like brown butterflies . And there 's the green of the pines , and the flaming red of five-fingered creepers . It was on a sunny November day , therefore , as he followed Rock Creek through the Park that Roger came to the old Mill where a little tea room supplied afternoon refreshment .