Thursday evening, twenty-five
minutes past seven
`` Scythrop -- Scythrop , if one of them should come to you , what then ? Have but a little patience , a week 's patience , and it shall be . '' `` A week , sir , is an age ; but to oblige you , as a last act of filial duty , I will live another week . It is now Thursday evening , twenty-five minutes past seven . At this hour next Thursday love and fate shall smile on me , or I will drink my last pint of port in this world . '' Mr. Glowry ordered his travelling chariot , and departed from the abbey . * * * * * On the morning of the eventful Thursday , Scythrop ascended the turret with a telescope and spied anxiously along the road , till Raven summoned him to dinner at five , when he descended to his own funeral feast .