He stood leaning against the old stone fountain on the straight lawn under the noonday sun.

The bees hummed slumberously around him, sailing from flower to flower, and the hot air, laden with the scents of the soil, seemed to penetrate his body at every pore, infusing a sense of vitality into him which pulsed through all his veins.

Austin always said that high noon was the supreme moment of the day.

To some folks the most beautiful time was dawn, to others sunset, but at noon Nature was like a flower at its full, a flower in the very zenith of its strength and glory.

He had always loved the noon.
"The world seems literally palpitating with life," he thought, as he rested his arm on the rim of the time-worn fountain.