noon
We ceased to take Muriel out with us in our slow walk along John 's favourite `` terrace '' before any one else was stirring . Her father at first missed her sorely , but always kept repeating that `` early walks were not good for children . '' At last he gave up the walk altogether , and used to sit with her on his knee in front of the cottage till breakfast-time . After that , saying with a kind of jealousy `` that every one of us had more of his little daughter than he , '' he got into a habit of fetching her down to the mill every day at noon , and carrying her about in his arms , wherever he went , during the rest of his work . Many a time I have seen the rough , coarse , blue-handed , blue-pinafored women of the mill stop and look wistfully after `` master and little blind miss . '' I often think that the quiet way in which the Enderley mill people took the introduction of machinery , and the peaceableness with which they watched for weeks the setting up of the steam-engine , was partly owing to their strong impression of Mr. Halifax 's goodness as a father , and the vague , almost superstitious interest which attached to the pale , sweet face of Muriel . Enderley was growing dreary , and we began to anticipate the cosy fireside of Longfield .