seven o'clock
Breakfast at Greenwood was a pleasant meal at a pleasant hour . For some time previous to it , the family were up and doing , Mr. Meredith riding over his farm directing his labourers , Mrs. Meredith giving a like supervision to her housekeeping , and Janice , attired in a wash dress well covered by a vast apron , with the aid of her guest , making the beds , tidying the parlour , and not unlikely mixing cake or some dessert in the kitchen . Before the meal , Mr. Meredith replaced his rough riding coat by one of broadcloth , with lace ruffles , while the working gowns of the ladies were discarded for others of silk , made , in the parlance of the time , `` sack fashion , or without waist , and termed `` an elegant negligee , '' -- this word being applied to any frock without lacing strings . Thus clothed , they gathered at seven o'clock in the pleasant , low-ceiled dining-room whose French windows , facing westward , gave glimpses of the Raritan , over fields of stubble and corn-stacks , broken by patches of timber and orchard . On the table stood a tea service of silver , slender in outline , and curiously light in weight , though generous in capacity . Otherwise , a silver tankard for beer , standing at Mr. Meredith 's place beside a stone jug filled with home brew , balanced by another jug filled with buttermilk , was all that tended to decoration , the knives and forks being of steel , and the china simplicity itself . For the edibles , a couple of smoked herring , a comb of honey , and a bunch of water-cress , re-enforced after the family had taken their seals by a form of smoking cornbread , was the simple fare set forth .