eight o'clock
His worn , high-bred face was as instinct with gentle melancholy as his voice , yet his sunken black eyes sparkled with the light of youth as the fine aromatic fire of the punch penetrated his veins . As for the lawyer , who was the eldest of the four , long , brown , toughly and dryly pliant as an old blade of marsh-grass , he showed in speech , look , nor manner no sign of enthusiasm , but he drank the punch . That evening , after Jerome Edwards had run home with his prospects of two shillings a week and Squire Eben Merritt 's assistance , the friends met at the Squire 's house . At eight o'clock they came marching down the road , the three of them -- John Jennings in fine old broadcloth and a silk hat , with a weak stoop in his shoulders , and a languid shakiness in his long limbs ; the lawyer striding nimbly as a grasshopper , with the utter unconsciousness of one who pursues only the ultimate ends of life ; and the colonel , halting on his right knee , and recovering himself stiffly with his cane , holding his shoulders back , breathing a little heavily , his neck puffing over his high stock , his face a purplish-red about his white mustache and close-cropped beard . The Squire 's wife had the punch-bowl all ready in the south room , where the parties were held . Some pipes were laid out there too , and a great jar of fine tobacco , and the cards were on the mahogany card-table -- four packs for bezique . Abigail herself opened the door , admitted the guests , and ushered them into the south room .