noon
`` Ye ca n't look at yer stockin ' yit , '' said Aunt Deel when I came down-stairs about eight o'clock , having slept through chore time . I remember it was the delicious aroma of frying ham and buckwheat cakes which awoke me , and who would n't rise and shake off the cloak of slumber on a bright , cold winter morning with such provocation ? `` This ai n't no common Chris ` mas -- I tell ye , '' Aunt Deel went on . `` Santa Claus wo n't git here short o ' noon I would n't wonder -- ayes ! '' `` By thunder ! '' exclaimed Uncle Peabody as he sat down at the table . `` This is goin ' to be a day o ' pure fun -- genuwine an ' uncommon .