nine o'clock
Rachel 's strong , firm shoulders drooped a little as she passed into the sitting-room . She sat down abruptly in one of the stiff rocking-chairs , and one with sharp ears might have heard her whisper to herself : `` We can not blindfold the eyes of nature . They see through everything . '' It was nine o'clock when Viola stepped out into her front yard , reticule in hand , and sauntered slowly down the walk , stopping now and then to inspect some Maytime shoot . He was waiting for her outside his own gate . `` What a sleepy-head you are , '' was her greeting as she came up to him . `` I 've been up since six o'clock , '' he said .