twelve o'clock
`` The bird will be lying there thinking that nobody cares . '' Magdalen quietly unfastened the door , which was bolted high up , out of the children 's reach , and led the way out into the shrubbery . The rain had left off , but it had warmed rather than chilled the spring morning air , and a delicious scent of freshened earth met the little party as they came out of the billiard-room . Magdalen would have liked to stand still for a moment and look about her , and enjoy the sweet air , and listen to the pretty soft garden sounds -- the crisp crunch of the heavy roller which the men were drawing over the damp gravel of the drive , the voices , further off , of the school children running home , for it was twelve o'clock , -- prettier still , the faint cackles from the poultry-yard , and the twitterings , gradually waking up , of the birds , whose spirits had been depressed by the heavy rain -- but where _ Hoodie _ was , such lingerings by the way must never be thought of ! The child darted out the moment the door was opened , and rushed across the grass-plot just in front -- heedless of the soaking to which this exposed her feet and legs up to her knees , for the grass hereabouts was allowed to grow wild , and in the corners near the wall was mixed with coarse ferns and bracken , through all of which Hoodie determinedly ploughed her way . `` Oh dear , '' exclaimed poor Magdalen , `` how _ silly _ I was to open the door ! Just look at Hoodie , Maudie .