about six o'clock
Give him bread and you have him of cast-iron -- stern , cold , hard of muscle , grim frown , stiff back , no smiles . Give him jam and you have credulity , simplicity , longing for friendship , tenderness , devotion to a small girl in a black frock , a heart big as the world . See him on Good Friday afternoon , laughing , eagerly questioning , a boy -- see him on Good Friday night , grim , legs stiff , eyes cold as stones , a man -- no easy thing for Mrs. Pascoe 's blowzy thunderings to conquer , but something vastly amusing apparently to grandfather Westcott to watch . He discovered that the sun rose about six o'clock , and therefore five o'clock on Easter morning found him shivering , in the desolate garden with his nose pressed to the little wooden gate . The High Road crossed the moor at no great distance from him , but the faint grey light that hung like gauze about him was not yet strong enough to reveal it . He would hear them as they passed and they must all go up that road on the way to the hill . In the garden there was darkness , and beyond it in the high shadow of the house and the surrounding trees , blackness .