Monday evening, about eight o'clock
There seemed at the time no particular profit to be derived from the circumstance , but Mr. Bower regarded it much as he would have done a piece of lumber that might have come into his possession , as a thing just to be kept in mind , if perchance some use for it should some day be discovered . It is this habit of thought that helps the Bower species to become petty capitalists . We call it thrift , and -- respecting public opinion -- we do not refuse our admiration . On Monday evening , about eight o'clock , Mr. Bower went up to the house-door in the rear of the building , and knocked . The door was opened about two inches , and an aged voice asked who was there . ` It 's me , Mrs. Butterfield -- Bower , ' was the pleasantly modulated reply . The door opened a little wider .