Six o'clock
`` Well , deary , it 's time . Oh , me fathers , to think it ! Wake up , Amy , me colleen , me own precious lamb . '' Six o'clock of a gray November morning is not an inspiriting hour to begin any undertaking . Amy turned in her comfortable bed , rubbed her eyes , saw Cleena standing near with a lighted candle in her hand , and inquired , drowsily : -- `` Why -- what 's happened ? Why will you get up in the middle of the night ? Do n't bother me -- yet . ''