noon
Banneker wrote the story of that hatred , rigid , ceremonious , cherished like a rare virtue until it filled two lives ; and he threw about it the atmosphere of the drear and divided old house . At the end , the sound of the laughter of children at play in the street . The article appeared word for word as he had written it . That noon Tommy Burt , the funny man , drawing down his hundred-plus a week on space , came over and sat on Banneker 's desk , and swung his legs and looked at him mournfully and said : `` You 've broken through your shell at last . '' `` Did you like it ? '' asked Banneker . `` Like it !