seven o’clock
It was the evening before Christmas . Until to-day the winter had been an open one , but about one o'clock in the afternoon the snow began to fall . The flakes came thicker and faster , and it soon became evident that an old-fashioned snowstorm had set in . By seven o'clock the snow lay a foot deep on the level , but in some places considerably deeper , for a brisk wind had piled it up in places . In a handsome house , some rods back from the village street , lived Dr. Drayton , a physician , whose skill was so well appreciated that he had already , though still in the prime of life , accumulated a handsome competence . He sat this evening in his library , in dressing-gown and slippers , his wife nearby engaged in some needlework . `` I hope you wo n't be called out this evening , Joseph , '' said Mrs. Drayton , as a gust of wind tattled the window panes .