seven o'clock
There was a sweet , pungent odor of pine boughs , a canary sang in the window , the clock was trimmed with a blackberry vine ; he knew the prickles , and they called up to his mind the glowing tints he had loved so well . His sensitive hand , that carried a divining rod in every finger-tip , met a vase on the shelf , and , traveling upward , touched a full branch of alder berries tied about with a ribbon . The ribbon would be red ; the woman who arranged this room would make no mistake ; for in one morning Anthony Croft had penetrated the secret of Lyddy 's true personality , and in a measure had sounded the shallows that led to the depths of her nature . Lyddy went home at seven o'clock that night rather reluctantly . The doctor had said Mr. Croft could sit up with the boy unless he grew much worse , and there was no propriety in her staying longer unless there was danger . `` You have been very good to me , '' Anthony said gravely , as he shook her hand at parting , -- `` very good . '' They stood together on the doorstep .