nine o'clock
He had never been farther than Edinburgh . The 20th came at last . Jock and Mhor were up at an unearthly hour , parading the house , banging at Mrs. M'Cosh 's door , and imploring her to rise in case breakfast was late , and thumping the barometer to see if it showed any inclination to fall . The car was ordered for nine o'clock , but they were down the road looking for it at least half an hour before it was due , feverishly anxious in case something had happened either to it or to Stark . The road before The Rigs was quite crowded that April morning . Mrs. M'Cosh stood at the gate beside the dancing daffodils and the tulips and the opening wallflowers in the border , her hands folded on her spotless white apron , her face beaming with its accustomed kind smile , and watched her family depart . `` Keep a haud o ' Peter , Mhor , '' she cautioned .