six
o'clock
It amazed Henrietta to think that she had once blushed and trembled at the look of this fussy , garrulous little governess . She might be something of a bore , but there was no question of her happiness , her interest in life . She had been getting up at six the last three mornings that she might finish a book , a large book in two volumes with close print , that had to be returned to the library . Henrietta could imagine nothing in the world for which she would get up at six o'clock . Then her thoughts went like lightning to the morning when the telegram had come telling of little Madeline 's death . The wound she had thought healed burst out afresh ; for a few seconds she felt as if she could hardly breathe . Get up at six o'clock , of course she would have forfeited her sleep with joy , night after night .