twelve o'clock
`` Iss , iss ; but I mind to this hour how we bearers perspired -- an ' she such a light-weight corpse . But plague seize my old emotions ! -- we 'm come to marry , not to bury . '' `` By the look o ' t 't is ' neither marry nor bury , Nim nor Doll , '' observed Old Zeb , who had sacrificed his paternal feelings and come to church in order to keep abreast with the age ; '' 't is more like Boscastle Fair , begin at twelve o'clock an ' end at noon . Why tarry the wheels of his chariot ? '' '' 'T is possible Young Zeb an ' he have a-met ` pon the road hither , '' hazarded Calvin Oke by a wonderful imaginative effort ; `` an ' 't is possible that feelings have broke loose an ' one o ' the twain be swelterin ' in his own bloodshed , or vicey-versey . '' `` I heard tell of a man once , '' said Uncle Issy , `` that committed murder upon another for love ; but , save my life , I ca n't think ` pon his name , nor where ' t befell . ''