four o'clock
Mr. Polly had never been near young ducklings before , and their extreme blondness and the delicate completeness of their feet and beaks filled him with admiration . It is open to question whether there is anything more friendly in the world than a very young duckling . It was with the utmost difficulty that he tore himself away to practise punting , with the plump woman coaching from the bank . Punting he found was difficult , but not impossible , and towards four o'clock he succeeded in conveying a second passenger across the sundering flood from the inn to the unknown . As he returned , slowly indeed , but now one might almost say surely , to the peg to which the punt was moored , he became aware of a singularly delightful human being awaiting him on the bank . She stood with her legs very wide apart , her hands behind her back , and her head a little on one side , watching his gestures with an expression of disdainful interest . She had black hair and brown legs and a buff short frock and very intelligent eyes .