eleven o'clock
Then , shaking his head , he would observe sadly : `` Fine young man , he was , too ; fine young man . Pore fellow ! I reckon we hai n't a-goin ' to git him . '' At eleven o'clock . Judge Briscoe dropped wearily from his horse at his own gate , and said to a wan girl who came running down the walk to meet him : `` There is nothing , yet . I sent the telegram to your mother -- to Mrs. Sherwood . '' Helen turned away without answering .