nine o'clock in the morning
oh ! Babiche -- I ca n't arrange things clearly in mind , I ca n't no matter how I try ! Only I must -- '' So over and over to the roar of the train she tried to drill herself . `` First the Portia Person -- then the Judge -- '' It was nine o'clock in the morning when , tired and bewildered , she emerged from the subway at Borough Hall , Brooklyn . The little hand , that `` had never spread itself over a doorknob or a fire-iron or any clumsy thing '' struggled valiantly with the russet bag ; the new Babiche , cramped and shaken from her day and night of travel , poked her snubby nose from under the traveling coat and sniffed and squeakingly yawned . Louisa 's bonnet had worked itself askew , the sharp wind from the river was flapping the heavy clothing about her slender ankles and displaying the outlandish old `` Congress gaiter '' shoes . A distressed and ridiculous figure , she stood and shuddered at the roar of the elevated above her and the jangle of the surface cars that clattered past her and trembled at the disconcerting honk of the motors that barely escaped crushing her .