ten o'clock
said Mr. Flurry ; `` b ` leeve me , there never was a woodcock yet that minded hounds , now , no more than they 'd mind rabbits ! The best shoots ever I had here , the hounds were in it the day before . '' When Mr. Knox had gone , I began to picture myself going across country roaring , like a man on a fire-engine , while Philippa put the goose down the chimney ; but when I sat down to write to her I did not feel equal to being humorous about it . I dilated ponderously on my cold , my hard work , and my loneliness , and eventually went to bed at ten o'clock full of cold shivers and hot whisky-and-water . After a couple of hours of feverish dozing , I began to understand what had driven Great-Uncle McCarthy to perambulate the house by night . Mrs. Cadogan had assured me that the Pope of Rome had n't a betther bed undher him than myself ; was n't I down on the new flog mattherass the old masther bought in Father Scanlan 's auction ? By the smell I recognised that `` flog '' meant flock , otherwise I should have said my couch was stuffed with old boots .