Half past
eight
It was too chill to stay at the porch , now with this mist in the air ; and reluctantly she came back to the sitting-room , her mother sleeping on the sofa , her open study book under the lamp , the Chinese lantern in its packing paper . Faith had no wish to open it now . There was no reason to fear anything , that she knew ; neither was she afraid ; but neither could she rest . Half past eight struck . She went to the window again , and very gravely sat down by it . She had sat there but few minutes when there came a rush of steps into the porch , and Cindy burst into the little sitting-room , almost too out of breath to speak . `` Here 's a proclamation ! ''