the hour
of ten
The waiters and servants of the restaurant began to put things to order under the large veranda . One could hear the clatter of washed glasses , the beating of rugs , the moving of chairs and the subdued whispers of the buffet-tender who arranged with a certain unction her rows of bottles , platters containing sandwiches , and huge bouquets a la Makart , resembling dried brooms . The glaring rays of the sun peered in at the sides of the garden and a throng of black sparrows swayed on the branches and perched on the chairs , clamoring for crumbs . The clock over the buffet was slowly and solemnly striking the hour of ten , when a tall slim boy rushed in on the veranda ; a torn cap was perched on the top of his touseled red hair , his freckled face wore a mischievous smile , and his nose was upturned . He ran straight to the buffet . `` Be careful , Wicek , or you 'll lose your shoes ! '' ... called the barmaid .