noon
There was a romantic , old-world flavor about the gray pile opposite , its carvings and cloisters and chiming bells seemed so peaceful and so far removed from modern trouble . Sometimes indeed the whirr of a biplane would disturb the quiet as an airman flittered like a great dragon-fly over the city , reminding her that medieval times were past ; while a bugle call from the neighboring barracks emphasized the fact that the world was at war . Not that Winona was likely to forget that ! Every day in school the Peace Bell prayer was read at noon , and she might see regiments of recruits marching up or down the High Street on their way to their training grounds . Nearly every girl in V.a. had some relation at the front , and though Winona could not boast of anybody nearer than a third cousin serving `` somewhere in France , '' she looked for news as eagerly as the rest . `` It must be glorious to get letters from the trenches , '' she said half wistfully one day to Beatrice Howell , who was exulting over a pencil scrawl written by her brother in a dug-out . `` I half wish -- '' `` No , you do n't ! ''