Not that she looked up.

Hawk never watched chicken more closely than Mrs.
Anderson watched poor Jule.

But out of the corners of her eyes Julia saw him drive his horses before him from the stable.

At the field in which he worked was on the other side of the house from where she sat she could not so much as catch a glimpse of him as he held his plow on its steady course.

She wished she might have helped Cynthy Ann in the kitchen, for then she could have seen him, but there was no chance for such a transfer.
Thus the tedious afternoon wore away, and just as the sun was settling down so that the shadow of the elm in the front-yard stretched across the road into the cow pasture, the dead silence was broken.