eleven o’clock
What it could not swallow ran off in mad rivulets to the great sloot , that now foamed like an angry river across the flat . Even the little furrow between the farmhouse and the kraals was now a stream , knee-deep , which almost bore away the Kaffer women who crossed it . It had rained for twenty-four hours , and still the rain poured on . The fowls had collected -- a melancholy crowd -- in and about the wagon-house , and the solitary gander , who alone had survived the six months ' want of water , walked hither and thither , printing his webbed footmarks on the mud , to have them washed out the next instant by the pelting rain , which at eleven o'clock still beat on the walls and roofs with unabated ardour . Gregory , as he worked in the loft , took no notice of it beyond stuffing a sack into the broken pane to keep it out ; and , in spite of the pelt and patter , Em 's clear voice might be heard through the open trap-door from the dining room , where she sat at work , singing the `` Blue Water : '' `` And take me away , And take me away , And take me away , To the Blue Water '' -- that quaint , childish song of the people , that has a world of sweetness , and sad , vague yearning when sung over and over dreamily by a woman 's voice as she sits alone at her work . But Gregory heard neither that nor yet the loud laughter of the Kaffer maids , that every now and again broke through from the kitchen , where they joked and worked . Of late Gregory had grown strangely impervious to the sounds and sights about him .