eight o'clock
called the police captain . `` Here now ! Here now ! '' `` Childs ' , Fifty-ninth Street , '' at eight o'clock of any morning differs from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the degree of polish on the frying-pans . You will see there a crowd of poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes , trying to look straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor people . But Childs ' , Fifty-ninth , four hours earlier is quite unlike any Childs ' restaurant from Portland , Oregon , to Portland , Maine . Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus girls , college boys , debutantes , rakes , _ filles de joie _ -- a not unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway , and even of Fifth Avenue .