noon
The silent summer forenoon , after this , wore away without event . Mrs. Gammit , working in her garden behind the house , with the hot , sweet scent of the flowering buckwheat-field in her nostrils and the drowsy hum of bees in her ears , would throw down her hoe about once in every half-hour and run into the barn to look hopefully at the traps . But nothing came to disturb them . Neither did anything come to disturb the hens , who attended so well to business that at noon Mrs. Gammit had seven fresh eggs to carry in . When night came , and neither weasels nor porcupines had given any further sign of their existence , Mrs. Gammit was puzzled . She was one of those impetuous women who expect everything to happen all at once . When milking was over , and her solitary , congenial supper , she sat down on the kitchen doorstep and considered the situation very carefully .