midnight
Swinging down Lamb 's Conduit Street , the scarlet van rounded the corner by the pillar box in such a way as to graze the kerb and make the little girl who was standing on tiptoe to post a letter look up , half frightened , half curious . She paused with her hand in the mouth of the box ; then dropped her letter and ran away . It is seldom only that we see a child on tiptoe with pity -- more often a dim discomfort , a grain of sand in the shoe which it 's scarcely worth while to remove -- that 's our feeling , and so -- Jacob turned to the bookcase . Long ago great people lived here , and coming back from Court past midnight stood , huddling their satin skirts , under the carved door-posts while the footman roused himself from his mattress on the floor , hurriedly fastened the lower buttons of his waistcoat , and let them in . The bitter eighteenth-century rain rushed down the kennel . Southampton Row , however , is chiefly remarkable nowadays for the fact that you will always find a man there trying to sell a tortoise to a tailor . `` Showing off the tweed , sir ; what the gentry wants is something singular to catch the eye , sir -- and clean in their habits , sir ! ''