a quarter past ten
So the shaggy one was put in the shafts accordingly . They heaped the coach up with hay , put the collar off the lame shaft-horse under the seat , in case we might want to fit it on to the horse to be bought at Tula ... . Filofey , who had managed to run home and come back in a long , white , loose , ancestral overcoat , a high sugar-loaf cap , and tarred boots , clambered triumphantly up on to the box . I took my seat , looking at my watch : it was a quarter past ten . Yermolaï did not even say good-bye to me -- he was engaged in beating his Valetka -- Filofey tugged at the reins , and shouted in a thin , thin voice : ` Hey ! you little ones ! ' His brothers skipped away on both sides , lashed the trace-horses under the belly , and the coach started , turned out of the gates into the street , the shaggy one tried to turn off towards his own home , but Filofey brought him to reason with a few strokes of the whip , and behold !