seven o'clock
Shiloh was awakened by a dash of cold water and a rough kick from the big boot of that other beast who called himself the overseer . He did not intend to jostle her hard , but Shiloh was such a little thing that the kick she got in the side accompanied by the dash of water shocked and frightened her instantly to her feet , and with scared eyes and blanched face she darted down to the long line of bobbins , mending the threads . If , in the great Mystic Unknown , -- the Eden of Balance , -- there lies no retributive Cause to right the injustice of that cruel Effect , let us hope there is no Here-after ; that we all die and rot like dogs , who know no justice ; that what little kindness and sweetness and right , man , through his happier dreams , his hopeful , cheerful idealism , has tried to establish in the world , may no longer stand as mockery to the Sweet Philosopher who long ago said : '' _ Suffer the little children to come unto me . _ ... '' They were more dead than alive when , at seven o'clock , the Steam Beast uttered the last volcanic howl which said they might go home . Outside the stars were shining and the cool night air struck into them with a suddenness which made them shiver . They were children , and so they were thoughtless and did not know the risk they ran by coming out of a warm mill , hot and exhausted , into the cool air of an Autumn night . Shiloh was so tired and sleepy that Bull Run and Seven Days had to carry her between them .