about half past one
o'clock
Then there was the usual hurried colloquy at the hall door , then the retreating noises of galloping feet . I pulled the blankets around my shoulders , lifted the pillow , and said , `` Poor fellow ! '' He had to say last Mass next day , and this was some consolation , as he could sleep a few hours in the morning . I met him at breakfast about half past one o'clock . There he was , clean , cool , cheerful , as if nothing had happened . `` I was sorry you had that night call , '' I said ; `` how far had you to go ? '' `` To some place called Knocktorisha , '' he replied , opening his egg ; '' ' t was a little remote , but I was well repaid . ''