twelve o'clock
The sound of Poppy 's song waked the canary ; he fluttered down from his perch and stretched his wings , trailing them on the floor of his cage to brush the sleep out of them . `` Did you ever see such affectation , '' said Poppy , `` look at him , striking attitudes up there , all by ` is little self ! '' Poppy seemed to cling to the idea of the canary as a symbol of propriety . `` Do you know , Rickets , it 's past twelve o'clock ? '' No , he did n't know . He had taken no count of time . But he knew that he had drunk a great many little tumblers of champagne , and that his love for Poppy seemed more than ever a supersensuous and immortal thing .