eleven o'clock
It surely will to me . '' It was on the first day of Robeson 's two-weeks ' July vacation that he came to take Juliet Marcy and her aunt , Mrs. Dingley , who had long stood to her in the place of the mother she had early lost , to see the home he had bought in a remote suburb of a great city . It was a three-hours ' journey from the Marcy country place , but he had insisted that Juliet could not furnish the house intelligently until she had studied it in detail . So at eleven o'clock of a hot July morning Miss Marcy found herself surveying from the roadway a small , old-fashioned white house , with green blinds shading its odd , small-paned windows ; a very `` box of a house , '' as Anthony had said , set well back from the quiet street and surrounded by untrimmed trees and overgrown shrubbery . The whole place had a neglected appearance . Even the luxuriant climbing-rose , which did its best to hide the worn white paint of the house-front , served to intensify the look of decay . `` Charming , is n't it ? ''