Quarter to seven
As she lay there asleep in her disordered bedroom , her clothes strewing chair , dresser , floor , Floss 's tastes , mental equipment , spiritual make-up , innermost thoughts , were as plainly to be read by the observer as though she had been scientifically charted by a psycho-analyst , a metaphysician and her dearest girl friend . `` Floss ! Floss , honey ! Quarter to seven ! '' Floss stirred , moaned faintly , dropped into sleep again . Fifteen minutes later , the table set , the coffee simmering , the morning paper brought from the back porch to Ma , Rose had heard none of the sounds that proclaimed the family astir -- the banging of drawers , the rush of running water , the slap of slippered feet . A peep of enquiry into the depths of the coffee pot , the gas turned to a circle of blue beads , and she was down the hall to sound the second alarm .