two o'clock
_ '' The station passed , the brakeman did not return , perhaps because he found some other listener , perhaps because he was afraid of boring this pleasant young fellow . Albert shuddered with a sympathetic pain as he thought of the heroic fellows on the tops of icy cars , with hands straining at frosty brakes , the wind cutting their faces like a sand-blast . Oh , those tireless hands at the wheel and throttle ! -- He looked at his watch ; it was two o'clock ; the next station was Tyre . As he began to get his things together , the brakeman again addressed him : `` Oh , I forgot to say that the old lady 's name is Welsh -- Mrs. Robert Welsh . Say I sent yeh , and it 'll be all right . '' `` Sure !