eight o’clock
The trial of that breakfast ! The effort to eat and appear unconcerned , to chat and make no mistake , -- May I never be called upon to go through such another ! But at last it was over , and I was left free to await in my own room the time for the dreaded though much-to-be-desired interview . Slowly the minutes passed ; eight o'clock struck , when , just as the last vibration ceased , there came a loud knock at the backdoor , and a little boy burst into the kitchen , crying at the top of his voice : `` Papa 's got a fit ! Oh , Mrs. Belden ! papa 's got a fit ; do come ! '' Rising , as was natural , I hastened towards the kitchen , meeting Mrs. Belden 's anxious face in the doorway .