eleven
o’clock
The following evening my aunt 's bedroom presented a spectacle of most wild disorder . Her maid and the dressmaker , with haggard eyes , for they had been up all night , were both on their knees , rummaging amidst the bows of satin , and feverishly sticking in pins . `` How late you are , '' said my aunt to me . `` Do you know that it is eleven o'clock ? and we have , '' she continued , showing her white teeth , `` a great many things to do yet . The horses have been put to this last hour . I am sure they will take cold in that icy courtyard . ''