midday
Tom Gage cries aloud so long as his tombstone endures . The Roman skeletons are in safe keeping . Betty Flanders 's darning needles are safe too and her garnet brooch . And sometimes at midday , in the sunshine , the moor seems to hoard these little treasures , like a nurse . But at midnight when no one speaks or gallops , and the thorn tree is perfectly still , it would be foolish to vex the moor with questions -- what ? and why ? The church clock , however , strikes twelve .