11 A.M.
The big , emphatic eight-day , opposite the front door , might proclaim that it was eleven , only to be at once contradicted by the little tinkler on the parlor mantel , which announced that it was six , thereby starting up the cathedral case on the stairway and the Grandfather in the dining-room , who held out respectively for eight and two , while all the time it was really half-past one . Thence arose in the early days painful misunderstandings on the part of Our Square , for we are a simple people and deem it the duty of a timepiece to keep time . In particular we were befooled by Grandfather , the solemn-voiced Ananias of a clock with a long-range stroke and a most convincing manner . So that Schepstein , the note-shaver , on his way to a profitable appointment at 11 A.M. , heard the hour strike -LRB- thirty-five minutes in advance of the best professional opinion -RRB- from the House of Silvery Voices , and was impelled to the recklessness of hiring a passing taxi , thereby reaching his destination with half an hour to spare and half a dollar to lack , for which latter he threatened to sue the Mordaunt Estate 's tenant . To the credit side of the house 's account it must be set down that MacLachan , the tailor , having started one of his disastrous drunks within the precincts of his Home of Fashion , was on his way to finish it in the gutter via the zigzag route from corner saloon to corner saloon , when the Twelve Apostles clock in the basement window lifted up its voice and -LRB- presumably through the influence of Peter -RRB- thrice denied the hour , which was actually a quarter before midnight . `` Losh ! '' said MacLachan , who invariably reacted in tongue to the stimulus of Scotch whiskey , `` they 'll a ' be closed .