midnight
The night was warm , but the sea-breeze sang a lullaby in the trees that peeped in at her window , and now and then a strong gust blew the flame almost to the top of the lamp-chimney . Stanley slept soundly in his trundle-bed , occasionally startling her by half-uttered exclamations , as in his dreams he chased rabbits or found partridge-eggs . Oblivious of passing hours , and profoundly immersed in speculations concerning her future , the girl sewed on , working scallop after scallop , and flower after flower , in the gossamer cambric between her slender fingers . Stars that looked upon her early in the night had gone down into blue abysms below the horizon , and the midnight song of a mocking-bird , swinging in a lemon-tree beneath her window , had long since hushed itself with the chirp of crickets and gossip of the katydids . A tap on the facing of her open door finally aroused her , and she hastily attempted to hide her work , as Dr. Grey asked , -- `` What keeps you up so late ? Are you dressing a doll for Jessie ? '' `` What brings you home so early ?