seven o'clock
It did not . I only told myself that she was clearly fond of children and would be a kind nurse to my baby . It even pleased me , in my foolish motherly selfishness , that she was a plain-featured person , whom baby could never come to love as she would , I was sure , love me . I felt better after I had taken tea , and as it was then seven o'clock , and the sun was setting horizontally through the cypresses of the cemetery , I knew it was time to go . I could not do that , though , without undressing baby and singing her to sleep . And even then I sat for a while with an aching heart , and Isabel on my knee , thinking of how I should have to go to bed that night , for the first time , without her . Mrs. Oliver , in the meantime , examining the surplus linen which I had brought in my parcel , was bursting into whispered cries of delight over it , and , being told I had made the clothes myself , was saying : `` What a wonderful seamstress you might be if you liked , ma'am . ''