a quarter past eight
The whole population of Jervaise Clump was plunged into the full bustle of its daily business . Industrious bees were methodically visiting the buttercups ; their bustling , commercial eagerness in marked contrast to the bluebottles and flies that seemed to choose their point of alighting with a sham intentness which did not disguise their lack of any definite purpose . Now and again a feral , domineering wasp would join the crowd , coming up with the air of a fussy , inquisitive overseer . I looked at my watch and found that the time was a quarter past eight . I had been asleep for nearly three hours . I had no idea what time the Jervaises had breakfast , but I knew that it was high time I got back to the Hall and changed my clothes . I unbuttoned my coat and looked down at my shirt front and thought how incongruous and silly that absurd garb of evening dress appeared in those surroundings .