Noon
Somehow , she -- she 's picked up a good many wrong impressions , and , Lord knows how , but she 's mixed our names up and -- and I 've left the letter for you . It 's on my table . '' He turned and calling a final good-by over his shoulder , went clattering noisily down to the street and vanished from Crailey 's sight . Noon found Tom far out on the National Road , creaking along over the yellow dust in a light wagon , between bordering forests that smelt spicily of wet underbrush and May-apples ; and , here and there , when they would emerge from the woods to cleared fields , liberally outlined by long snake-fences of black walnut , the steady , jog-trotting old horse lifted his head and looked interested in the world , but Tom never did either . Habitually upright , walking or sitting , straight , keen , and alert , that day 's sun saw him drearily hunched over , mile after mile , his forehead laced with lines of pain . He stopped at every farm-house and cabin , and , where the young men worked in the fields , hailed them from the road , or hitched his horse to the fence and crossed the soft furrows to talk with them . At such times he stood erect again , and spoke stirringly , finding eager listeners .