noon
Where were the chains , whose prophetic clanking had chilled my misgiving heart ? They were transformed to flowery garlands , of daily renewing fragrance and bloom . My desk was literally covered with blossoms while their season lasted , and little fairy fingers were always twining with wreaths the dark hair they loved to arrange according to their own juvenile fancies . My noon hours at Dr. Harlowe 's , were pleasant episodes in my daily life . Mrs. Harlowe was an excellent woman . She was called by the villagers `` a most superior woman , '' -- and so she was , if admirable housekeeping and devotion to her husband 's interests entitled her to the praise . She was always busy ; but the doctor , though he had a wide sweep of practice in the surrounding country , always seemed at leisure .