six o'clock
In a little box of a room , where harness hung on all the walls , there reclined on a bare and dusty couch a red-faced man , whose hair looked as if it had been closely cropped with a pair of horse-clippers . When he caught sight of the banker , he sat up and exclaimed , `` Good God , Mr. Tomkinson ! Ai n't you in bed ? '' `` It 's this gold-escort , Manning -- it was due at six o'clock . '' `` Look here . '' The stable-keeper rose from his seat , placed his hand lovingly on a trace which hung limply on the wall . `` Do n't I run the coach to Beaver Town ?