eight o'clock
He it was who soused the windows of purple glass , polished the brass knobs , rubbed bright the brass knocker and brass balls at the top and bottom of the delightful iron railings , to say nothing of the white marble steps , which he attacked with a slab of sandstone and cake of fuller 's - earth , bringing them to so high a state of perfection that one wanted to apologize for stepping on them . Thus it was that the weather-beaten rainspouts , stained bricks , sagging roof , and blistered window-sashes were no longer in evidence . Indeed , their very shabbiness so enhanced the brilliancy of Todd 's handiwork that the most casual passers-by were convinced at a glance that gentlefolk lived within . On this particular morning , then , Todd had spent most of the time since daylight -- it was now eight o'clock -- in the effort to descry his master making his way along the street , either afoot or by some conveyance , his eyes dancing , his ears alert as a rabbit 's , his restless feet marking the limit of his eagerness . In his impatience he had practised every step known to darkydom in single and double shuffle ; had patted juba on one and both knees , keeping time with his heels to the rhythm ; had slid down and climbed up the railings a dozen times , his eyes on the turn in the street , and had otherwise conducted himself as would any other boy , black or white , who was at his wits ' end to know what to do with the next second of his time . Aunt Jemima had listened to the racket until she had lost all patience , and at last threw up the basement window : `` Go in an ' shet dat do ' -- ` fo ' I come up dar an ' smack ye -- ` nough ter make a body deef ter hear ye , '' she called , her black shining face dividing the curtains . `` How you know he 's a-comin ' ? ''