half past eight
The room was empty , and she began doggedly to search the house for him , up stairs and down , carrying the child with her . She would not have been afraid now to call him ; but she had no voice , and she could not ask the servant anything when she looked into the kitchen . She saw the traces of the meal he had made in the dining-room , and when she went a second time to their chamber to lay the little girl down in her crib , she saw the drawers pulled open , and the things as he had tossed them about in packing his bag . She looked at the clock on the mantel -- an extravagance of Bartley 's , for which she had scolded him -- and it was only half past eight ; she had thought it must be midnight . She sat all night in a chair beside the bed ; in the morning she drowsed and dreamed that she was weeping on Bartley 's shoulder , and he was joking her and trying to comfort her , as he used to do when they were first married ; but it was the little girl , sitting up in her crib , and crying loudly for her breakfast . She put on the child a pretty frock that Bartley liked , and when she had dressed her own tumbled hair she went down stairs , feigning to herself that they should find him in the parlor . The servant was setting the table for breakfast , and the little one ran forward : `` Baby 's chair ; mamma 's chair ; papa 's chair ! ''