quarter to seven
That was the worst part of the business , for I was fairly choking to get out of doors . Six-thirty passed , then six-forty , but still he did not come . The fool had chosen this day of all days to be late . At one minute after the quarter to seven I heard the rattle of the cans outside . I opened the front door , and there was my man , singling out my cans from a bunch he carried and whistling through his teeth . He jumped a bit at the sight of me . `` Come in here a moment , '' I said .