quarter to eight
The plush album went home in a farmer 's wagon that afternoon . Right here there should be something said about Fanny Brandeis . And yet , each time I turn to her I find her mother plucking at my sleeve . There comes to my mind the picture of Mrs. Brandeis turning down Norris Street at quarter to eight every morning , her walk almost a march , so firm and measured it was , her head high , her chin thrust forward a little , as a fighter walks , but not pugnaciously ; her short gray skirt clearing the ground , her shoulders almost consciously squared . Other Winnebago women were just tying up their daughters ' pigtails for school , or sweeping the front porch , or watering the hanging baskets . Norris Street residents got into the habit of timing themselves by Mrs. Brandeis . When she marched by at seven forty-five they hurried a little with the tying of the hair bow , as they glanced out of the window .