About eleven o'clock
Paths wind hither and thither over this park hillside . Benches are placed at different levels along the way . If you are going up , you may rest ; if you are coming down , you may linger ; if neither going up nor coming down , you may with a book seek out some retreat of shade and coolness and keep at a distance the millions that rush and crush around the park as waters roar against some lone mid-ocean island . About eleven o'clock that morning , on one of these benches placed where rock is steepest and forest trees stand close together and vines are rank with shade , a sociable-looking little fellow of some ten hardy well-buffeted years had sat down for the moment without a companion . He had thrown upon the bench beside him his sun-faded , rain-faded , shapeless cap , uncovering much bronzed hair ; and as though by this simple act he had cleared the way for business , he thrust one capable-looking hand deep into one of his pockets . The fingers closed upon what they found there , like the meshes of a deep-sea net filled with its catch , and were slowly drawn to the surface . The catch consisted of one-cent and five-cent pieces , representing the sales of his morning papers .