nine o'clock
On Fridays there would invariably be a musicale -- generally a quartette , with a few connoisseurs to listen and to criticise . Then the piano would be drawn out from its corner and the lid propped up , so that Max Unger of the `` Harmonie '' could find a place for his ` cello behind it , and there still be room for the inventor with his violin -- a violin with a tradition , for Ole Bull had once played on it and in that same room , too , and had said it had the soul of a Cremona -- which was quite true when Richard Horn touched its strings . On all the other nights of the week Mrs. Horn was at home to all who came . Some gentle old lady from across the Square , perhaps , in lace caps and ribbons , with a work-basket filled with fancy crewels , and whose big son came at nine o'clock to take her home ; or Oliver 's young friends , boys and girls ; or old Doctor Wallace , full of the day 's gossip ; or Miss Lavinia Clendenning , with news of the latest Assembly ; or Nathan Gill with his flute . But then it was Nathan always , whatever the occasion . From the time Malachi unlocked the front doors in the morning until he bolted them for the night , Nathan came and went . The brick pavements were worn smooth , the neighbors said , between the flute-player 's humble lodgings in a side street and the Horn house , so many trips a day did the old man make .