two o'clock
We lived half a mile from the works , at an old inn , and we began at six o'clock . In winter time , I remember , we would snuggle into the big back kitchen , with its huge cauldron of pig-meat swinging over the open fire , and its barrels containing evil things like stoats and ferrets , to put on our boots ; and when we opened the door , two feet of snow would fall in upon the floor . How well I remember that silent trudge up the bleak Birmingham Road to the works ! There were always two broad ruts in the white roadway -- the mail-coach had passed silently , at two o'clock . Cold , cold , cold ! A white silence , save for our dark figures shuffling softly through the snow . And then a long eleven-hour day .