Sunday midnight
`` It ought not to do that , '' said his mother . `` Here , put a bit of this soothing ointment on . You should wear different collars . '' He went away on Sunday midnight , seeming better and more solid for his two days at home . On Tuesday morning came a telegram from London that he was ill . Mrs. Morel got off her knees from washing the floor , read the telegram , called a neighbour , went to her landlady and borrowed a sovereign , put on her things , and set off . She hurried to Keston , caught an express for London in Nottingham .