two
o'clock
Pleasant old town , which slopes down the hill-side to the old church , -- just `` restored , '' though by Lords Minchampstead and Vieuxbois , not without Mark Armsworth 's help , to its ancient beauty of grey flint and white clunch chequer-work , and quaint wooden spire . Pleasant churchyard round it , where the dead lie looking up to the bright southern sun , among huge black yews , upon their knoll of white chalk above the ancient stream . Pleasant white wooden bridge , with its row of urchins dropping flints upon the noses of elephantine trout , or fishing over the rail with crooked pins , while hapless gudgeon come dangling upward between stream and sky , with a look of sheepish surprise and shame , as of a school-boy caught stealing apples , in their foolish visages . Pleasant new national schools at the bridge end , whither the urchins scamper at the sound of the two o'clock bell . Though it be an ugly pile enough of bright red brick , it is doing its work , as Whitbury folk know well by now . Pleasant , too , though still more ugly , those long red arms of new houses which Whitbury is stretching out along its fine turnpikes , -- especially up to the railway station beyond the bridge , and to the smart new hotel , which hopes -LRB- but hopes in vain -RRB- to outrival the ancient `` Angler 's Rest . '' Away thither , and not to the Railway Hotel , they trundle in a fly -- leaving Mark Armsworth all but angry because they will not sleep , as well as breakfast , lunch , and dine with him daily , -- and settle in the good old inn , with its three white gables overhanging the pavement , and its long lattice window buried deep beneath them , like -- so Stangrave says -- to a shrewd kindly eye under a bland white forehead .