noon in early August
It was n't a pleasant house , being of a dingy , bilious-yellow complexion , with narrow window eyes , and a mean slit of a doorway for a mouth ; not sinister , but common , stupid , and uninteresting . If one should happen to be a house-psychologist , one would know that behind the Nottingham lace curtains looped back with soiled red ribbons , was all the tawdry , horrible junk that clutters such houses , even as mental junk clutters the minds of the people who have to live in them . One knew that the people who dwelt in that house did n't know how to live , how to think , or how to cook ; and that if by any chance a larger life , a real thought , or a bit of good cooking confronted them , they would probably reject it with suspicion . The elderly gentleman in white linen who made acquaintance with this particular house on a very sultry noon in early August , hesitated before he rang the bell . He glanced over his shoulder at the hot , dusty street where a swarm of hot , dusty children were shrilling and shrieking , or staring at him round-eyed , dived into his pockets , fished up a handful of small change , whistled to insure their greater attention , and flung the coin among them . While they were snatching at the money like a flock of pigeons over a handful of grain , the elderly gentleman rang the bell . He could hear it jangling through the house , but it brought no immediate response .