nine o'clock
By the side of the arbour lay a basket of tools . Annie snatched up a small trowel , and going to the back of the arbour , dug a hole for her letter . She tore it then into fragments and buried it , looked round her eagerly , saw that there was not a soul in sight , and then , with a certain sense of relief , hurried back to the house . The ball was to begin at nine o'clock . The festive hour grew on apace . Mrs. Willis said nothing more about the ring , and Annie Forest heaved a deep sigh of relief . `` Reprieved until to-morrow , '' she murmured to herself ; `` and now for high frivolity . ''