ten P.M.
This is taking the wise in their own craftiness , I reckon : and richly you deserve to lose all your ill-got hoard . At the same time , Mrs. Quarles -- I will be just -- there are worse people in the world than you are : in comparison with your nephew , I consider you a grosser kind of angel ; and I really hope no harm may befall your old bones beyond the loss of your money . However , if you are to lose this , it is my wish that poor Mrs. Scott , or some other honest body , may get it , and not Simon ; or rather , I should not object that he may get it first , and get hung for getting it , too , before the sister has the hoard . Our friend , Simon Jennings , could not sleep that night ; his reveries and scheming lasted from the rum-punch 's final drop , at ten P.M. , to circiter two A.M. , and then , or thenabouts , the devil hinted `` steal it ; '' and so , not till nearly four , he began to shut his eyes , and dream again , as his usual fashion was , of adding up receipts in five figures , and of counting out old Bridget 's hoarded gold . Next day , notwithstanding nocturnal semi-sleeplessness , he awoke as brisk as a bee , got up in as exhilarated a state as any gas-balloon , and was thought to be either surprisingly in spirits , or spirits surprisingly in him ; none knew which , `` where each seemed either . '' That whole day long , he did the awkwardest things , and acted in the most absent manner possible ; Jonathan thought Mr. Simon was beside himself ; Sarah Stack , foolish thing ! said he was in love , and was observed to look in the glass several times herself ; other people did not know what to think -- it was quite a mystery .