ten o'clock
_ I _ know her . Many 's the time she has coaxed me out of a good , warm bed , wheedled me into the fields in a white dress and thin shoes , and then sent me home wet as a drowned kitten , with a snapping headache , to a cold breakfast . Yes -- I used to `` go a-Maying . '' Such a watching of the clouds and weather-cock the night before ; such a fixing of sashes , and wreaths , and hats , and dresses ; so many charges to Betty , the cook , to wake us up by daylight ; such a wondering how mother and father could lie a-bed of a May morning ; -- such a tossing , and twisting , and turning , the night before ; such a putting aside of muslin curtains , to see if it was n't `` most daylight ; '' such surprise when Aunt Esther came creeping up stairs , shading her night-lamp and saying , `` it was only ten o'clock ! '' Such broken slumbers as we had -- such funny dreams -- and such a galvanic jump out of bed the next morning , when Betty gave us one of her pump-handle shakes . Then such a time washing , and combing , and dressing ! such long faces when a great thumping rain drop fell upon the window !