About ten o’clock
What do you fear ? ' ` I fear the past and the future , my son . Would that your father were back . ' About ten o'clock of that morning , as I was making ready to walk into Bungay to the house of that physician under whom I was learning the art of healing , my father rode up . My mother , who was watching at the lattice , ran out to meet him . Springing from his horse he embraced her , saying , ` Be of good cheer , sweet , it can not be he . This man has another name . '