eight o'clock in
the evening
It seems to me that some time you must come to your senses and take up your life seriously , for this is not life , the sorry thing you have lived lately , but I can not wait any longer ! I am tired , tired , tired of waiting and hoping , too tired to do anything but drag myself away from the sight of your folly . You have wasted our children 's substance , indulged your appetites until you have lost the respect of your best friends , and you have made me -- who was your choice , your wife , the head of your house , the woman who brought your children into the world -- you have made me an object of pity ; a poor , neglected thing who could not meet her neighbors ' eyes without blushing . '' When Jack and his father returned from their outing at eight o'clock in the evening , having had supper at a wayside hotel , the boy went to bed philosophically , lighting his lamp for himself , the conclusion being that the two other members of the household were a little late , but would be in presently . The next morning was bright and fair . Jack waked at cockcrow , and after calling to his mother and Sue , jumped out of bed , ran into their rooms to find them empty , then bounced down the stairs two at a time , going through the sitting-room on his way to find Ellen in the kitchen . His father was sitting at the table with the still-lighted student lamp on it ; the table where lessons had been learned , books read , stories told , mending done , checkers and dominoes played ; the big , round walnut table that was the focus of the family life -- but mother 's table , not father 's .