nine o’clock
with all her might , than Mrs. Walker , at No. 5 , puts her head out of the parlour-window , and screams ` Muffins ! ' too ; and Mrs. Walker has scarcely got the words out of her lips , than Mrs. Peplow , over the way , lets loose Master Peplow , who darts down the street , with a velocity which nothing but buttered muffins in perspective could possibly inspire , and drags the boy back by main force , whereupon Mrs. Macklin and Mrs. Walker , just to save the boy trouble , and to say a few neighbourly words to Mrs. Peplow at the same time , run over the way and buy their muffins at Mrs. Peplow 's door , when it appears from the voluntary statement of Mrs. Walker , that her ` kittle 's jist a-biling , and the cups and sarsers ready laid , ' and that , as it was such a wretched night out o ' doors , she 'd made up her mind to have a nice , hot , comfortable cup o ' tea -- a determination at which , by the most singular coincidence , the other two ladies had simultaneously arrived . After a little conversation about the wretchedness of the weather and the merits of tea , with a digression relative to the viciousness of boys as a rule , and the amiability of Master Peplow as an exception , Mrs. Walker sees her husband coming down the street ; and as he must want his tea , poor man , after his dirty walk from the Docks , she instantly runs across , muffins in hand , and Mrs. Macklin does the same , and after a few words to Mrs. Walker , they all pop into their little houses , and slam their little street-doors , which are not opened again for the remainder of the evening , except to the nine o'clock ` beer , ' who comes round with a lantern in front of his tray , and says , as he lends Mrs. Walker ` Yesterday 's ` Tiser , ' that he 's blessed if he can hardly hold the pot , much less feel the paper , for it 's one of the bitterest nights he ever felt , ' cept the night when the man was frozen to death in the Brick-field . After a little prophetic conversation with the policeman at the street-corner , touching a probable change in the weather , and the setting-in of a hard frost , the nine o'clock beer returns to his master 's house , and employs himself for the remainder of the evening , in assiduously stirring the tap-room fire , and deferentially taking part in the conversation of the worthies assembled round it . The streets in the vicinity of the Marsh-gate and Victoria Theatre present an appearance of dirt and discomfort on such a night , which the groups who lounge about them in no degree tend to diminish . Even the little block-tin temple sacred to baked potatoes , surmounted by a splendid design in variegated lamps , looks less gay than usual , and as to the kidney-pie stand , its glory has quite departed . The candle in the transparent lamp , manufactured of oil-paper , embellished with ` characters , ' has been blown out fifty times , so the kidney-pie merchant , tired with running backwards and forwards to the next wine-vaults , to get a light , has given up the idea of illumination in despair , and the only signs of his ` whereabout , ' are the bright sparks , of which a long irregular train is whirled down the street every time he opens his portable oven to hand a hot kidney-pie to a customer .