midnight
`` The Lord , '' said Tom . `` I jest wish I know 'd whar to find Him , '' said the woman . `` I would go ; ' pears like I never should get rested again . My flesh is fairly sore , and I tremble all over , every day , and Sambo 's allers a jawin ' at me , 'cause I does n't pick faster ; and nights it 's most midnight ' fore I can get my supper ; and den ' pears like I do n't turn over and shut my eyes , ' fore I hear de horn blow to get up , and at it agin in de mornin ' . If I knew whar de Lor was , I 'd tell him . '' `` He 's here , he 's everywhere , '' said Tom . `` Lor , you a n't gwine to make me believe dat ar !