two o'clock
July 17 . Dear Judy : I have a history to recount . This , please remember , is Wednesday next . So at half-past two o'clock our little Sophie was bathed and brushed and clothed in fine linen , and put in charge of a trusty orphan , with anxious instructions to keep her clean . At three-thirty to the minute -- never have I known a human being so disconcertingly businesslike as J. F. Bretland -- an automobile of expensive foreign design rolled up to the steps of this imposing chateau . A square-shouldered , square-jawed personage , with a chopped-off mustache and a manner that inclines one to hurry , presented himself three minutes later at my library door . He greeted me briskly as `` Miss McKosh . ''