nine o'clock
There had been no stormier night during the winter . Isabel 's old house creaked and rattled and groaned like a ship in a whole gale , and the wind sent great waves of rain along the veranda . A northern window had been blown in and hastily patched . Although but nine o'clock the sky was as black as midnight . For several days there had been merely a quiet steady fall , but during the afternoon the northern rain belt had sent down another great storm and it had been rising ever since . Isabel , unable to go out , had washed her hair , and was still sitting on the hearth-rug , drying it , when she heard a shout outside , then the slam of a door at the back of the house , and voices in the kitchen . She was too warm and comfortable to be interested .