noon
Mercy had risen on an elbow , and her face was full of the yearning of the blind . Then she lay back . `` Never mind , '' she said to herself in a faltering voice , `` let me lie quiet and think of all his pretty ways . '' Greta returned to the vicarage toward noon , and overtook Parson Christian and Peter in the lonnin , the one carrying a scythe over his shoulder , the other a bundle of rushes under his one arm . The parson was walking in silence under the noontide sun , his straw hat tipped back from his forehead and his eyes on the ground . He was busy with his own reflections . It was not until Greta had tripped up to his side and slipped his scythe-stone from its strap in the pole that the parson was awakened from his reverie .