a quarter to three
The farmer 's wife had been up since sunrise , churning . She gladly gave him a simple breakfast of home-made bread , with butter fresh from the churn . He caught the six o'clock express for town ; tubbed , shaved , and lunched , at his Club . At a quarter to three he was just coming down the steps into Piccadilly , very consciously `` clothed and in his right mind , '' debating which train he could take for Shenstone if -- as in duty bound -- he looked in at his publishers ' first ; when a telegraph boy dashed up the steps into the Club , and the next moment the hall-porter hastened after him with a telegram . Jim Airth read it ; took one look at his watch ; then jumped headlong into a passing taxicab . `` Charing Cross ! '' he shouted to the chauffeur .