noon
Mother ! It 's getting Christmasier every minute ! '' Nor did the Spirit of the Holidays allow his interest to lessen during the days when the advertisements lost their fascination through monotonous repetition . As he and Bill ran home at noon one day , a quartette of men with bulging , gray denim bags on their shoulders , left big yellow envelopes on each and every house porch of the street . They were rigidly impartial in their work , and John dashed up the steps of that same vacant house which the boys had held that day with the pea shooters . `` Look ! '' he cried , drawing the gaudy pamphlet from the manila casing .