two o'clock
The washerwomen invaded the floor , spreading soapy and steaming water before them . Over by the sample tables a negro porter in shirt-sleeves swept entire bushels of spilled wheat , crushed , broken , and sodden , into his dust pans . The day 's campaign was over . It was past two o'clock . On the great dial against the eastern wall the indicator stood -- sentinel fashion -- at ninety-three . Not till the following morning would the whirlpool , the great central force that spun the Niagara of wheat in its grip , thunder and bellow again . Later on even the washerwomen , even the porter and janitor , departed .