midday
No leaf stirred , but the shaded air was fresh and comforting . Great cumulus clouds lazily , ponderously , glided across the sky , prototypes of nomadic wandering . Somewhere back by the stables a mellow farm bell proclaimed across the smiling fields the hour of noon ; then negroes straightened up from the rows of young tobacco , stretched their tired backs , and in groups wandered toward a cool spring where their dinner buckets had been left . Yet it was some little while before the Colonel 's midday meal . Again Brent asked -LRB- or perhaps he only thought , for thoughts have a knack of seeming loud to those at the threshold of Nod -RRB- : `` I wonder how it would feel to stop drinking and buckle all the way down ? '' No answer . `` If she could only care for me -- after I 've wiped the bad spots out ! ''