Quarter past six
Beyond was the bay , a glimmer in the sunset light . Mrs. Phinney , in the kitchen , was busy with the supper dishes . Her husband , wheezing comfortably at his musical pipe , drew an ancient silver watch from his pocket and looked at its dial . Quarter past six . Time to be getting down to the depot and the post office . At least a dozen male citizens of East Harniss were thinking that very thing at that very moment . It was a community habit of long standing to see the train come in and go after the mail .