six o'clock
We went back to the house . Harding , I found , was half-owner of a station to the north-east , an Oxford man , a great hand at skylarking , and an inveterate writer of songs . He was good-looking too , and gentlemanlike , in fact , a very pleasant companion in every way . Dinner was to be at six o'clock , in imitation of home hours ; but we did not find the day hang heavy on our hands , there was so much to be spoken of by all of us . And when that important meal was over we gathered in the open air in front of the house , bent upon making Christmas cheer . `` What is your last new song , eh , Harding ? '' said the Major ; `` now is the time to ventilate it . ''