noon
I watched the clock . I noticed Hilton , when he got back , raking blood-stains off the gravel of the driveway . I wandered about , like a lost turkey-hen , trying to dramatize my meeting with Dinkie , doing my best to cooper together some incident which might keep our first minute or two together from being too hard on my poor kiddie . I heard the twelve o'clock whistles , at last , and then the Westminster-chimes of the over-ornate clock in the library announce that noon had come . And still the minutes dragged on . And when the tension was becoming almost unbearable I heard a step on the gravel and my heart started to pound . But instead of Dinkie , it was Lossie , Lossie with smiling lips and inquiring brown eyes and splashes of rose in her cheeks from rapid walking .