four in the afternoon
At the little gate of her Edinburgh garden there grew just such a hawthorn , and the perfume of this one was telling her not of the joy and beauty before her , but of all she had left behind . Miss Gordon had never seen the loveliness nor felt the lure of this new land -- a garden-land though it was , of winding flower-fringed roads , of cool , fairy-dells , and hilltops with heart-thrilling glimpses of lake and forest and stream . Her harp was always hanging on the willows of this Canadian Babylon in mourning for the streets of Edinburgh . She could never quite rise above a feeling of resentment against the land that held her in bondage , and never once dreamed that , should she go back to the prim little house in McGlashan Street , with Cousin Griselda and their cats and their embroidery and their cup of tea at exactly half-past four in the afternoon , she would long for the old stone house in the far-off Canadian valley , and the love and companionship of the merry rioters who now made her days a burden . Her grievance against Canada was due to the fact that she had crossed the ocean merely to make one short summer 's visit to brother William and had been held a prisoner ever since . It had all come about through Cousin Griselda 's mistaken idea that to be truly genteel one must travel . The cousins had ever set before themselves perfect refinement and gentility as the one condition to be devoutly striven for , and the only one in keeping with the Gordon traditions .