six o'clock
The girls ' cheeks flushed deeper , their smooth locks became roughened . The laughter waxed louder and longer ; the matrons looking on doubled their broad backs with responsive merriment . It became like a little bacchanalian rout in a New England field on a summer afternoon , but they did not know it in their simple hearts . At six o'clock the mist began to rise , the sunlight streamed through the trees in slanting golden shafts , long drawn out like organ chords . The young people gathered up their pails and baskets and went home , flocking down the road together , calling back farewells to Rose and William and their mother , who stood in front of the tavern watching them out of sight . They were not quite out of sight when they came to Hiram Baxter 's little house , and Silas Berry emerged from the shop door . `` Hullo ! ''