one o'clock
Little Miss Flower continued to bring Henry his lunch with great punctuality each day ; and each day he found himself more and more interested in its arrival , though when it had come he ate it with no special haste . Indeed , sometimes it almost seemed that it had served its purpose in merely having been brought , judging by the moments of reverie in which Henry seemed to have forgotten it , and to be thinking of something else . Yes , he had soon begun to watch for that bright little face , and it was hardly to be wondered at ; for , particularly come upon against such a background , the face had something of the surprise of an apparition . It seemed all made of light ; and when one o'clock had come , and Henry heard the expected footsteps of his little waiting-maid , and the tinkle of the tray she carried , coming up the yard , her entrance was as though some one had carried a lamp into the dark office . Surely it was more like the face of a spirit than that of a little human girl , and you would almost have expected it to shine in the dark . When you got used to the light of it , you realised that the radiance poured from singularly , even disproportionately , large blue eyes , set beneath a broad white brow of great purity , and that what at first had seemed rays of light around her head was a mass of sunny gold-brown hair which glinted even in shadow . Strange indeed are the vagaries of the Spirit of Beauty !