nine o'clock
He went to the back door , and stared at the blackness to the east , and , sure enough , lightning was blinking there . `` It 's coming , sure enough ; just hang out and keep cool for another hour , and you 'll feel the difference . '' He sat down again on the three-legged stool , folded his arms , with his elbows on his knees , drew a long breath , and blinked at the clay floor for a while ; then he twisted the stool round on one leg , until he faced the old-fashioned spired wooden clock -LRB- the brass disc of the pendulum moving ghost-like through a scarred and scratched marine scene -- Margate in England -- on the glass that covered the lower half -RRB- that stood alone on the slab shelf over the fireplace . The hands indicated half-past two , and Johnny , who had studied that clock and could `` hit the time nigh enough by it , '' after knitting his brows and blinking at the dial for a full minute by its own hand , decided `` that it must be getting on toward nine o'clock . '' It must have been the heat . Johnny stood up , raking his hair , turned to the door and back again , and then , after an impatient gesture , took up his fiddle and raised it to his shoulder . Then the queer thing happened .