noon
IT was one of the changing days of our Oldport midsummer . In the morning it had rained in rather a dismal way , and Aunt Jane had said she should put it in her diary . It was a very serious thing for the elements when they got into Aunt Jane 's diary . By noon the sun came out as clear and sultry as if there had never been a cloud , the northeast wind died away , the bay was motionless , the first locust of the summer shrilled from the elms , and the robins seemed to be serving up butterflies hot for their insatiable second brood , while nothing seemed desirable for a human luncheon except ice-cream and fans . In the afternoon the southwest wind came up the bay , with its line of dark-blue ripple and its delicious coolness ; while the hue of the water grew more and more intense , till we seemed to be living in the heart of a sapphire . The household sat beneath the large western doorway of the old Maxwell House , -- he rear door , which looks on the water . The house had just been reoccupied by my Aunt Jane , whose great-grandfather had built it , though it had for several generations been out of the family .