six o'clock
She deserved snubbing . She would go , for the health of her soul , and talk to dearest Biddy , who always made you feel even smaller than you had thought yourself before . She stood up , shaking the sand-grams and grass-burrs from her dress and the folds of the white umbrella . It was nearing six o'clock . The heat was lessening , and the pale turquoise sky overhead was flecked and dappled with little puffs of rosy cloud , bulking in size and deepening in colour to the westward , where their upper edges were pure gold . And the river looked like a stream of liquid honey , upon which giant rose-leaves had been scattered , and a breeze was stirring in the grasses and among the leaves . The Sisters were busily repacking their baskets .