three o'clock
`` Soup and coffee , '' said Erica . `` Which would he like best ? '' The boy gave his vote for soup , and , having seen him thoroughly satisfied and well paid , they sent him home , and to his dying day he was proud to tell the story of the foggy night when the people 's tribune had given him half of his own supper . The father and daughter were soon comfortably installed beside the green room fire , Raeburn making a hearty meal though it was past three o'clock . `` I never dreamed of finding you up , little son Eric , '' he said when the warmth and the food had revived him . `` I only telegraphed for fear you should lock up for the night and leave me to shiver unknown on the doorstep . '' `` But what happened ? ''