eleven
o’clock
Mrs. Dakin , who lived next door to Mrs. Morel , going to the field fence to shake her hearthrug , would spy men coming slowly up the hill . She saw at once they were colliers . Then she waited , a tall , thin , shrew-faced woman , standing on the hill brow , almost like a menace to the poor colliers who were toiling up . It was only eleven o'clock . From the far-off wooded hills the haze that hangs like fine black crape at the back of a summer morning had not yet dissipated . The first man came to the stile . `` Chock-chock ! ''