nine o'clock
She used to have a queer splint basket at the old place , but it had been broken under something heavier when her household goods were moved . Some of the family had long been tired of hearing that basket regretted , and another had never been found worthy to take its place . The thimble , the smooth mill bobbin on which was wound black linen thread , the dingy lump of beeswax , and a smart leather needle-book , which Johnny had given her the Christmas before , all looked ready for use , but Mrs. Bascom pushed them farther back on the table and quickly rose to her feet . '' ' T ai n't nine o'clock yet , '' she said , exultantly . `` I 'll just take a couple o ' crackers in my pocket and step over to the old place . I 'll take my time and be back soon enough to make 'em that pan o ' my hot gingerbread they 'll be counting on for supper . '' Half an hour later one might have seen a bent figure lock the side door of the large farmhouse carefully , trying the latch again and again to see if it were fast , putting the key into a safe hiding-place by the door , and then stepping away up the road with eager determination .