About eight in the morning
The only thing that bothered me was a couple of odd-looking guys who thought that the way to hunt Mallards was with shotguns , and their dress was just as out of taste as their equipment . Who ever hunted ducks from a canoe , dressed in windbreakers and hightopped boots ? Eventually they bought some ducks from me and went home , leaving me to my slumbers . * * * * * About eight in the morning , there was a tentative tap on my door . While I was growling about why they should bother tapping , the door opened and a woman came in with my breakfast tray . She was not my nurse ; she was the enamelled blonde receptionist . She had lost some of her enamelled sophistication .