eleven
o'clock
suddenly exclaimed the young skipper , dropping the paper , and looking at Bessie . `` What 's too bad , Levi ? '' she asked . `` There 's to be a yacht race in Portland harbor to-morrow , at eleven o'clock , to sail for a silver pitcher . '' `` I do not see anything wicked in that , '' laughed Bessie . `` Nor I ; but it is wicked that I did not know of it before . I am sure The Starry Flag will beat anything of her size this side of New York ; and I am provoked to think I did not know of this race sooner , for a silver pitcher would be a very handsome ornament for our cabin . ''