about noon
I had this from Harmon Gow , who had driven the stage from Bettsbridge to Starkfield in pre-trolley days and knew the chronicle of all the families on his line . `` He 's looked that way ever since he had his smash-up ; and that 's twenty-four years ago come next February , '' Harmon threw out between reminiscent pauses . The `` smash-up '' it was -- I gathered from the same informant -- which , besides drawing the red gash across Ethan Frome 's forehead , had so shortened and warped his right side that it cost him a visible effort to take the few steps from his buggy to the post-office window . He used to drive in from his farm every day at about noon , and as that was my own hour for fetching my mail I often passed him in the porch or stood beside him while we waited on the motions of the distributing hand behind the grating . I noticed that , though he came so punctually , he seldom received anything but a copy of the Bettsbridge Eagle , which he put without a glance into his sagging pocket . At intervals , however , the post-master would hand him an envelope addressed to Mrs. Zenobia -- or Mrs. Zeena -- Frome , and usually bearing conspicuously in the upper left-hand corner the address of some manufacturer of patent medicine and the name of his specific . These documents my neighbour would also pocket without a glance , as if too much used to them to wonder at their number and variety , and would then turn away with a silent nod to the post-master .