eight o'clock
She seemed something under forty , tall and angular ; her hair , a crass yellow , was tied with a large girlish bow of black ribbon behind ; and in her cheeks she had crudely striven to recall the hues of youth . Around her long neck another black ribbon accentuated the scrawny lines it was designed to hide ; and on top of all she wore a wide black hat , which had a fresh yet collapsed effect , as if it had long been cherished under the lid of a trunk . Her knees touched Natalie 's , and Garth 's gorge rose at her nearness to his precious charge -- and yet the antique girl greeted them with a sort of anxious , appealing smile , which disarmed him in spite of himself . Promptly at eight o'clock the door of the post office was opened ; and the last bag of mail was thrown into the stage . Still the driver made no move to climb into his seat ; and Garth , becoming restless as the minutes passed , got out and approached him . `` Good morning , driver , '' he said , while the bystanders stared afresh . `` What 's the delay ? ''