fifteen minutes before seven
Me that 's not even fit to black your shoes ! Mad at you ? Why , I -- I -- Good night -- good -- night -- ma . '' * * * * * At just fifteen minutes before seven , to the pungency of coffee and the harsh sing of water across the hall , Mrs. Lipkind in a fuzzy wrapper the color of her eyes and hair , kissed her son awake . `` Sam ! Sammy ! Get up !