the midday winter sun
He had the most comfortable feeling that there was no need for him to give any thought or any kind of trouble . `` You just leave it all to me , '' some one said to him . `` I 've made all the arrangements . '' The lane was hot , and the midday winter sun covered the paths with pools and splashes of colour . He came out on to the common and saw the village , the long straggling street with the white-washed cottages and the hideous grey-slate roofs ; the church tower , rising out of the elms , and the pond , running to the common 's edge , its water chequered with the reflection of the white clouds above it . The main street of Clinton is not a lovely street ; the inland villages and towns of Glebeshire are , unless you love them , amongst the ugliest things in England , but every step caught at Seymour 's heart . There was Mr. Roscoe 's shop which was also the post-office , and in its window was the same collection of liquorice sticks , saffron buns , reels of cotton , a coloured picture of the royal family , views of Trezent Head , Borhaze Beach , St. Arthe Church , cotton blouses made apparently for dolls , so minute were they , three books , `` Ben Hur , '' `` The Wide , Wide World , '' and `` St. Elmo , '' two bottles of sweets , some eau-de-Cologne , and a large white card with bone buttons on it .