noon
He was able to think again of other things : of Cecil 's school report -- far from satisfactory ; of old Hermon in the village , whom he suspected of overdoing his bronchitis with an eye to port ; of the return match with Coldingham , and his belief that their left-hand bowler only wanted `` hitting '' ; of the new edition of hymn-books , and the slackness of the upper village in attending church -- five households less honest and ductile than the rest , a foreign look about them , dark people , un-English . In thinking of these things he forgot what he wanted to forget ; but hearing the sound of wheels , he entered a field as though to examine the crops until the vehicle had passed . It was not Wilson , but it might have been , and at the next turning he unconsciously branched off the Cornmarket road . It was noon when he came within sight of Coldingham , six miles from Worsted Skeynes . He would have enjoyed a glass of beer , but , unable to enter the public-house , he went into the churchyard instead . He sat down on a bench beneath a sycamore opposite the Winlow graves , for Coldingham was Lord Montrossor 's seat , and it was here that all the Winlows lay . Bees were busy above them in the branches , and Mr. Barter thought : ' .