noon
She sat down on the curbstone , refusing to join in the melody , clasping her hands around her knees , and rocking back and forth as the shrill voice of the music-box piped on alone . `` I just _ hate _ ` Sweet Alice Ben Bolt , ' '' she complained . `` Is n't it most time to go home ? '' It was noon now . At the sound of the factory whistles all our followers had deserted us , and gone home to dinner . Phil sat down on the curbstone beside Elsie , and emptying the pennies out of the little cup she had been carrying , gravely counted them . `` There 's only eleven , '' he announced .