About eleven o'clock
`` Sene , are you cold ? '' asked puzzled Dick . She was warmly wrapped in her little squirrel furs ; but he felt her quivering upon his arm , like one in an ague , all the way home . About eleven o'clock that night her father waked from an exciting dream concerning the best method of blacking patent-leather ; Sene stood beside his bed with her gray shawl thrown over her night-dress . `` Father , suppose some time there should be only you and me -- '' `` Well , well , Sene , '' said the old man sleepily , -- `` very well . '' `` I 'd try to be a good girl ! Could you love me enough to make up ? ''