Five minutes past eleven
You want to be off to play with that idle young scoundrel of Pendarve 's , I suppose ; but I wish you to stay here till it is eleven . Do you hear that , sir ? You disobey me if you dare . '' `` Five minutes past eleven now , dad , '' said Joe , after a glance at the clock over the chimney-piece . `` It 's not , sir , '' cried the Major , turning his head quickly to look for himself , and then wincing from pain . `` That clock 's wrong . It 's a wretched cheap fraud , and never did keep time .