eight o'clock
The family had risen at seven . Julia had swept and dusted ; Kathleen had opened the bedroom windows , made the washstands tidy , filled the water pitchers , and changed the towels . Gilbert had carried wood and Peter kindlings , for the fires that had to be laid on the hearths here and there . Mother had cooked the plain breakfast while Nancy put the dining room in order and set the table , and at eight o'clock , when they sat down to plates piled high with slices of brown and white bread , to dishes of eggs or picked-up cod fish , or beans warmed over in the pot , with baked potatoes sometimes , and sometimes milk toast , or Nancy 's famous corn muffins , no family of young bears ever displayed such appetites ! On Saturday mornings there were griddle cakes and maple syrup from their own trees ; for Osh Popham had shown them in the spring how to tap their maples , and collect the great pails of sap to boil down into syrup . Mother Carey and Peter made the beds after the departure of the others for school , and it was pretty to see the sturdy Peter-bird , sometimes in his coat and mittens , standing on the easiest side of the beds and helping his mother to spread the blankets and comforters smooth . His fat legs carried him up and downstairs a dozen times on errands , while his sweet piping voice was lifted in a never ending stream of genial conversation , as he told his mother what he had just done , what he was doing at the present moment , how he was doing it , and what he proposed to do in a minute or two .