five o'clock,
winter
`` Certainly I never saw a more bright or blooming countenance . '' `` Well , then , what could possibly have put it into your head to talk such nonsense as to suppose I could ever be ill ? '' `` Nay , but -- '' `` Why , I am only eighteen years of age , and , considering the sort of life I lead , there is no chance of such a thing . I rise at five o'clock , winter or summer ; I am never up after ten , or , at latest , eleven ; I eat sufficient to satisfy my appetite , which certainly is not a very great one ; I do not suffer from exposure to cold ; I work all day , singing as merrily as a lark ; and at night I sleep like a dormouse . My heart is free , light , and happy . My employers are so well satisfied with what I do for them , that I am quite sure not to want for work ; so what is there for me to be ill about ? It really is too amusing to hear you try to talk sense , and only utter nonsense !