about eleven o'clock in the morning
And when Mrs. Weldon reproached him with letting himself be thus devoured by those venomous insects : `` It is their instinct , Cousin Weldon , '' he replied to her , scratching himself till the blood came ; `` it is their instinct , and we must not have a grudge against them ! '' At last , one day -- it was the 17th of June -- Cousin Benedict was on the point of being the happiest of entomologists . But this adventure , which had unexpected consequences , needs to be related with some minuteness . It was about eleven o'clock in the morning . An overpowering heat had obliged the inhabitants of the factory to keep in their huts , and one would not even meet a single native in the streets of Kazounde . Mrs. Weldon was dozing near little Jack , who was sleeping soundly . Cousin Benedict , himself , suffering from the influence of this tropical temperature , had given up his favorite hunts , which was a great sacrifice for him , for , in those rays of the midday sun , he heard the rustle of a whole world of insects .