half past seven
Money come , money go . Whuteveh sleep you gits is that much to de good . '' The Wildcat flopped down on the floor of the smoking room , but sleep would not come to him . At half past seven the Backslid Baptist on the leather seat began mumbling to himself . A little later he awakened . `` Wilecat , whut dat noise ? '' `` Ai n't heard no noise . ''