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Updated: September 8, 2025
Whatever Mattie said must certainly be right. He glanced at the clock. "Quarter to ten. I wonder when I can get a train?" he cried. A consultation of a time-table showed that no train for Mossvale could be had until nine-thirty the next morning. "It's too bad!" he groaned. "I could have taken one just an hour ago if I had known."
She looked down, a frown forming on her brow, but the sun shone clear when she saw Abbott Ashton. She gave him a swift look, as if to penetrate his inmost thoughts. He met her eyes unfalteringly. "It's already nine o'clock," he said with singular composure. "Don't forget nine-thirty." Then he disappeared in the crowd. Fran saw the ranks thinning before her.
A most superfluous admonition, for Eleanor was nearly petrified with fear as it was. She retreated to her room with all possible speed and her room-mate wondered what had taken place to make her look so pale, but refrained from asking questions. Eleanor and her room-mate were not entirely congenial. It was close to nine-thirty when she entered her room which was on the floor above Beverly's.
They had been going to a dance that night. The servants had all gone out immediately after dinner to a servants' ball and the governess had gone for a walk. She was to return at nine-thirty to fasten Elinor's gown and to be with the children. Arthur, she said, had been depressed for several days, and at dinner had hardly spoken at all. He had not, however, objected to the dance.
All those cries for help were wasted in the old days, when every sound was swallowed up by the monstrous racket of the machine. If only the early aviators could come back to see the beauty and perfection of the mechanism which have been bought at the cost of their lives! "About nine-thirty I was nearing the clouds.
That was enough about Abbott; Simon passed at once to a more interesting theme: "Taken in the Lion Show, yet?" "I'm just waiting for nine-thirty....I have an engagement." Futile words, indeed, since it was now only about eight o'clock. "You come with me, then, I know all the ropes. Hey? Oh, yes, I know mother thinks me in bed for goodness' sake don't tell on me, she'd be scared to death.
Each one of you must forget, in all baseball matters, that he is an individual. He must think of himself only as a spoke in the wheel. "During the baseball season I want every man of you in bed by nine-thirty. On the night before a game turn in at eight-thirty. Make up your minds that there shall be no variation from this.
It was a point of honour with him, a sort of daily declaration of independence, never to put in an appearance before nine-thirty. On this particular morning he was punctual to the minute, or half an hour late, whichever way you choose to look at it.
As previously arranged, Bob stayed on the farm to look after things and finish plowing the ten-acre field adjoining the barn, which had been started two days before. It was scarcely nine-thirty when he turned and started back along the north side of the field. He glanced in the direction of the barn and beheld an unusual sight.
And then, being a modern mother, she donned smart autumn hat and tailored suit coat and stood ready to reach her office by nine-thirty. But because she was as motherly as she was modern she swung open the door between kitchen and dining-room to advise with Annie, the adept. "Lamb chops to-night, eh, Annie? And sweet potatoes. Jock loves 'em. And corn au gratin and some head lettuce."
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