morning, noon
I want to knock it and hear the crunch it would make . There ! But you ca n't think what it 's like sometimes . One 's soul is thrown at one , so to speak , morning , noon , and night . I do n't believe it 's a good thing , anyway , to be always taking one 's soul out to feel its pulse . Except that mother 's uneducated and ignorant about it , she reminds me very much of a woman at that vicarage in Somerset I used to go to sometimes in the holidays . She was the aunt of the family and was what she called a deaconess .