four o'clock
This plan was finally dropped , not because of any lingering nepotism within Penrod , but because his injury called for action less belated . One after another , he thought of impossible things ; one after another , he thought of things merely inane and futile , for he was trying to do something beyond his power . Penrod was never brilliant , or even successful , save by inspiration . At four o'clock he came into the house , still nebulous , and as he passed the open door of the library he heard a man 's voice , not his father 's . `` To me , '' said this voice , `` the finest lines in all literature are those in Tennyson 's ` Maud ' -- `` ` Had it lain for a century dead , My dust would hear her and beat , And blossom in purple and red , There somewhere around near her feet . ' `` I think I have quoted correctly , '' continued the voice nervously , `` but , at any rate , what I wished to -- ah -- say was that I often think of those ah -- words ; but I never think of them without thinking of -- of -- of YOU . I -- ah -- '' The nervous voice paused , and Penrod took an oblique survey of the room , himself unobserved .