eight
o'clock
`` I suppose , '' said the pedler , throwing back his whiplash to bring it down like a feather on the mare 's flank , `` you have not seen anything of old Mr. Higginbotham within a day or two ? '' `` Yes , '' answered the toll-gatherer ; `` he passed the gate just before you drove up , and yonder he rides now , if you can see him through the dusk . He 's been to Woodfield this afternoon , attending a sheriff 's sale there . The old man generally shakes hands and has a little chat with me , but to-night he nodded , as if to say , ` Charge my toll , ' and jogged on ; for , wherever he goes , he must always be at home by eight o'clock . '' `` So they tell me , '' said Dominicus . `` I never saw a man look so yellow and thin as the squire does , '' continued the toll-gatherer . `` Says I to myself tonight , ` He 's more like a ghost or an old mummy than good flesh and blood . ' ''