six in the morning
In the town there was no sunrise shining over the earth and waking everybody . The open face of morning could not be seen indoors . And the dying day poured no evening weariness into one 's limbs , driving them to repose ; life seemed here to flow in the reverse direction , for here people grew lively at night ! About half-past six in the morning the master , who slept downstairs , would strike the ceiling with his stick . Pelle , whose business it was to reply , would mechanically sit up and strike the side of the bedstead with his clenched fist . Then , still sleeping , he would fall back again . After a while the process was repeated .