three o'clock
`` Maggie , send Leo to me as soon as you go home , '' said he , in the softest of his soft tones , as she left the shop . From the tin kettle , which Maggie had placed by the stove , there arose an odor of fried sausages -- a savory mess to a hungry man , possessed of a reasonable amount of confidence in the integrity and conscientiousness of sausage-makers in general . André made himself as useful as possible to his employers , and they could not well spare him in the middle of the day to go home to his dinner , for during ` change hours the shop was full of customers . If there was a lull any time before three o'clock , he ate the contents of the tin pail ; if not , he dined at a fashionable hour . André could not well be spared , because there were certain dignified men , presidents of banks and insurance companies , venerable personages with a hold upon the last generation , who came from their homes in the middle of the day to read the newspapers at the `` China , '' or the `` Fireman ; '' staid old merchants , who had retired from active life , and went to the counting-room only to look after the junior partners -- men who always shaved down town , and would not let any barber but André touch their faces . His hand was so soft and silky , his touch so tender and delicate , and his razors were so keen and skilfully handled , that he was a favorite in the shop . Years before , André had set up a shop for himself ; but he had no talent for business , and the experiment was a failure .