three in the morning
Harry helped himself to kidneys and sat down by Robin , still humming the refrain of the Cornish song he had heard at his window . `` By Jove , I 'm late -- mustard , Robin , my boy -- ca n't think how I slept like that . Why , in New Zealand I was always up with the lark -- had to be , you know , there was always such heaps to do -- the bread , old boy , if you can get hold of it . I remember once getting up at three in the morning to go and play cricket somewhere -- fearful hot day it was , but I knocked up fifty , I remember . Probably the bowling was awfully soft , although I remember one chap -- Pulling , friend of Durand 's -- could fairly twist 'em down the pitch -- made you damned well jump . Talking of cricket , I suppose you play , Robin ? Did you get your cap or whatever they call it -- College colours , you know ? ''