midday
`` Please God ! '' was the inward aspiration of Mr. Carlyle . `` Carlyle , '' added the surgeon , in a musing sort of tone , as he laid his hand on Mr. Carlyle 's shoulder , which his own head scarcely reached , `` I am sometimes at death-beds where the clergyman is sent for in this desperate need to the fleeting spirit , and I am tempted to ask myself what good another man , priest though he be , can do at the twelfth hour , where accounts have not been made up previously ? '' It was hard upon midday . The Rev. Mr. Little , Mr. Carlyle , and Miss Carlyle were gathered in the dressing-room , round a table , on which stood a rich china bowl , containing water for the baptism . Joyce , her pale face working with emotion , came into the room , carrying what looked like a bundle of flannel . Little cared Mr. Carlyle for the bundle , in comparison with his care for his wife .