one o'clock
Mr. Smallweed , compelling the attendance of the waitress with one hitch of his eyelash , instantly replies as follows : `` Four veals and hams is three , and four potatoes is three and four , and one summer cabbage is three and six , and three marrows is four and six , and six breads is five , and three Cheshires is five and three , and four half-pints of half-and-half is six and three , and four small rums is eight and three , and three Pollys is eight and six . Eight and six in half a sovereign , Polly , and eighteenpence out ! '' Not at all excited by these stupendous calculations , Smallweed dismisses his friends with a cool nod and remains behind to take a little admiring notice of Polly , as opportunity may serve , and to read the daily papers , which are so very large in proportion to himself , shorn of his hat , that when he holds up the Times to run his eye over the columns , he seems to have retired for the night and to have disappeared under the bedclothes . Mr. Guppy and Mr. Jobling repair to the rag and bottle shop , where they find Krook still sleeping like one o'clock , that is to say , breathing stertorously with his chin upon his breast and quite insensible to any external sounds or even to gentle shaking . On the table beside him , among the usual lumber , stand an empty gin-bottle and a glass . The unwholesome air is so stained with this liquor that even the green eyes of the cat upon her shelf , as they open and shut and glimmer on the visitors , look drunk . `` Hold up here ! ''