But when the clock showed two minutes before the hour of one in the morning these words came in a blast: "The hou-ou-our of de-eath is at hand. The Gr-r-rim Rea-eaper is at the doo-oor!" "Then please, please, please GO AWAY!" screamed Hen, his teeth clacking a bone solo. Then half an hour passed, a quarter-gale of wind making the only sound that came from outside.