About eight o'clock
Me head 's crazy , an ' she must git me a dhrop uv the craythur to put a bit uv spirit inter me . '' Mrs. Fisher promised , and then left the house . After tea , little Meg , a forlorn , wiry child of eight years , came in and fetched the stimulant which her mother craved , and with which Mrs. Ryan comforted herself over her trying lot . About eight o'clock the little ones returned . Three unkempt , ragged urchins , full of excitement about all they had witnessed . `` Oh , mother , sich pritty picthures , an ' sich fine singin ' . An ' sich nice spoken jintlemen an ' ladies . ''