midnight
At all of which I kept a guilty silence ; and I had by then not a little guilt to bear , since I was becoming every moment more doubtful of my undertaking . For at heart these people are the kindly of earth , and yet they are prone , as Delia More had said of the Proudfits , `` to worship goodness like a little god , '' nor do they commonly broaden their allegiance without distinguished precedent . And how were we to secure this ? Every one was there -- the little gray Doctor June , flitting about as quietly as a moth , and all those of whom Delia More had asked me : Mis ' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss , wearing her cloak wine broadcloth side out to honour the occasion ; Abigail Arnold , with a huge basket of gingerbread and jumbles from her home bakery ; Photographer Jimmy Sturgis , and even Mis ' Sturgis , in a faint aroma of caraway which she nibbled incessantly ; Liddy Ember , and poor Ellen , wearing her magnificent hair like a coronet , and standing wistfully about , with her hand , palm outward , persistently covering her mouth ; and Abel Halsey , who was to leave at midnight for a lonely cross-country ride into the hills . And as they stood , gossiping and eager , the women bird-observant of one another 's toilettes , I own myself to have felt like an alien among them , remembering how I alone knew that Calliope Marsh was not even in the village . Very softly we lifted the latch of Calliope 's gate and trooped in her little dark yard . `` Blisterin ' Benson ! ''