noon
`` The Proudfit salads they ca n't a soul tell what ingredients is in 'em , chew high though we may . I know you know about them queer organs an ' canned sea reptiles they use now in cookin ' . I 've come to the solemn conclusion I ai n't studied physiology an ' the animal sciences close enough myself to make a rill up-to-date salad . '' Before noon we were all at Proudfit House -- to which I had taken care to leave word for Abel to follow me -- and we were letting in the sun , making ready the table , filling the vases with garden roses ; and in the library Calliope laid a fire `` in case they get chilly , travellin ' so , '' she said , but I think rather it was in longing somehow to summon a secret agency to that place where Linda Proudfit 's portrait hung . For we had long been agreed that , as soon as she was at home again , Linda 's mother must be told all that we knew of Linda . Thus , to Calliope and me , the time held a tragic meaning beneath the exterior of our simple cheer . But the time held many meanings , as a time will hold them ; and the Voice of its new meaning said to me , as we all waited on the Proudfit veranda with its vines and its climbing rose and its canaries : -- `` I marvel , I _ marvel _ at your bad taste .