twelve o'clock
And me so far away ! '' For the next hour the poor woman lay on the bed in her room , now sobbing in helpless paroxysms of grief , now relating pitiful , commonplace anecdotes of the dead daughter so dearly beloved , a dazed helpless creature , unable to do a hand 's turn for herself , while her husband crept in and out , quiet , resourceful , comforting , full of unselfish compassion . Margot had hard work to keep back her own tears , as he clumsily pressed his own services upon her , picking up odd garments , folding them carefully in the wrong way , and rummaging awkwardly through the drawers . The trap was to be ready to start by twelve o'clock , and ten minutes before the time Margot carried a sponge and basin of water to the bedside , bathed the poor , tear-stained face , brushed the straggling locks of grey hair , and helped to fasten bonnet and cloak . It was pathetic to see the helplessness into which grief had stricken this capable , bustling woman . She lifted her chin , to allow the strings of her bonnet to be tied by Margot 's hands , and sat meekly while the `` dolman '' was hooked . It was like dressing a big docile baby ; like a child , too , the manner in which she clung to her husband 's arm down the narrow stair .