seven
o’clock
A pair of shoe-button eyes stared at him from the pillow . `` Well , I 'm damned , '' said the wet-nurse And went out , looking thoughtful . In a shop where , that afternoon , the Countess had purchased some Lyons silks , one of the clerks , Peter Niburg , was free at last . At seven o'clock , having put away the last rolls of silk on the shelves behind him , and covered them with calico to keep off the dust ; having given a final glance of disdain at the clerk in the linens , across ; having reached under the counter for his stiff black hat of good quality and his silver-topped cane ; having donned the hat and hung the stick to his arm with two swaggering gestures ; having prepared his offensive , so to speak , he advanced . Between Peter Niburg and Herman Spier of the linens , was a feud . Its source , in the person of a pretty cashier , had gone , but the feud remained . It was of the sort that smiles with the lips and scowls with the eyes , that speaks pleasantly quite awful things , although it was Peter Niburg who did most of the talking .