seven o'clock
`` Maybe , maybe , '' and Ulrika turned to go ; but she muttered sullenly as she went , `` There be them that know and could tell , and them that will have her yet . '' She shut the door behind her with a sharp clang , and , left to himself , Mr. Dyceworthy again smiled -- such a benignant , fatherly smile ! He then walked to the window and looked out . It was past seven o'clock , an hour that elsewhere would have been considered evening , but in Bosekop at that season it still seemed afternoon . The sun was shining brilliantly , and in the minister 's front garden the roses were all wide awake . A soft moisture glittered on every tiny leaf and blade of grass . The penetrating and delicious odor of sweet violets scented each puff of wind , and now and then the call of the cuckoo pierced the air with a subdued , far-off shrillness .