ten o'clock
Whoever had done the original work had done it lovingly and well , and Olive learned many a lesson while she was following the lines of the quaint houses , like those on old china , renewing the green of the feathery elms , or retracing and coloring the curious sampler trees that stood straight and stiff like sentinels in the corners of the room . The Honorable Lemuel Hamilton sat in the private office of the American Consulate in Breslau , Germany , one warm day in July . The post had been brought in half an hour before , and he had two open letters on the desk in front of him . It was only ten o'clock of a bright morning , but he looked tired and worn . He was about fifty , with slightly grey hair and smoothly shaven face . He must have been merry at one time in his life , for there were many nice little laughing-wrinkles around his eyes , but somehow these seemed to have faded out , as if they had not been used for years , and the corners of his mouth turned down to increase the look of weariness and discontent . A smile had crept over his face at his old friend Bill Harmon 's spelling and penmanship , for a missive of that kind seldom came to the American Consulate .