about noon
`` It might , it might , it might -- or it might n't ! '' He stopped abruptly . Eight days had passed somehow since an enigmatic telegram from the India-rubber Man had brought Betty flying up to Scotland with hastily packed trunks and a singing heart . Somehow she had expected him to meet her at the little station she reached about noon after an all-night journey of incredible discomforts . But no India-rubber Man had been there to welcome her ; instead a pretty girl with hair of a rusty gold , a year or two her senior , had come forward rather shyly and greeted her . `` Are you Mrs. Standish ? '' she asked , smiling .