midday
Every day toughens us up ... We ought to be leaving soon . '' `` After Christmas , '' Fred conceded , briefly . There followed a brief respite of clear , crisp days , warming to mellowness at noon . After the midday meal everyone crawled out into the sunlight , standing in little shivering groups , while Monet played upon his violin . The cracked inventor , pulling his cardboard box on its ridiculous spools , stopped to listen ; Weeping Willow forgot his grief and almost achieved a smile . Only the Emperor of Japan continued his pacing back and forth , his royal gloom untouched by any responsive chord . But the reaction from this sedative of music was in every case violent .