three
o'clock
If someone asked me how that concerned a poor mountain shepherd , I would say that I was twenty years old and that Stephanette was the loveliest thing I had seen in my whole life . One Sunday , however , the fortnight 's supplies were very late arriving . In the morning , I had thought , `` It 's because of High Mass. '' Then about midday , a big storm got up , which made me think that bad road conditions had kept the mule from setting out . Then , just after three o'clock , as the sky cleared and the wet mountain glistened in the sunshine , I could hear the mule 's bells above the sound of the dripping leaves and the raging streams . To me they were as welcome , happy , and lively as a peal of bells on Easter Day . But there was no little farm boy or old aunty Norade at the head . It was ... you 'll never guess ... my heart 's very own desire , friends !