eight o'clock
I love to remember how swiftly Daphne Street took on an air of the untoward . Kitchens were left dark , unaccustomed lights flashed in upper chambers , some went scurrying for oysters before the post-office store should be closed , and some spread the news , eager to share in the holiday importance . I love to remember our certainty , so reasonably established , that they would all join us as infallibly as children will join in jollity . No one refused , no one hesitated ; and when , at eight o'clock , the Topladys and I reached the rendezvous in the Engine-House entry , every one was there before us -- save only , of course , the Proudfits . `` Where 's the Proudfits ? Ai n't we goin ' to wait for the Proudfits ? '' asked more than one ; and some one had seen the Proudfit motor come flashing through the town from the Plank Road , empty .