about three
o'clock
He was probably fourteen , had never been to school , and wandered about like a lost turkey hen . We could depend upon him to pick up the apples , feed the cider mill , water the stock , gather the eggs and feed the pigs and chickens . The boy had the habit of coming to the springhouse and taking a nap each day on the milk crock bench , which had been discarded since we had bought our new refrigerator . Every warm summer afternoon about three o'clock , he would run down the path , dodge behind a tree out of sight , if his mother happened to step out of the kitchen door , and slipping into the springhouse , lie down and sleep quietly in its cool moist shade for a quarter of an hour ; then , still asleep , sit up and in a startled way , talk earnestly for some time , his features transformed by a look of tragic intelligence , which they did not possess at other times . Then he would lie down again and after a few minutes quiet sleep , awake and return to the cabin . His speech did not disturb me ; his voice was low , though tense , and his words unintelligible . Gradually his murmurings became a familiar sound , as the call of the lark from the pasture gatepost .