Perhaps it's five o'clock.

I think I'd like some tea myself." And so they were safe.
"It was Magic which sent the robin," said Mary secretly to Dickon afterward.

"I know it was Magic." For both she and Dickon had been afraid Colin might ask something about the tree whose branch had broken off ten years ago and they had talked it over together and Dickon had stood and rubbed his head in a troubled way.
"We mun look as if it wasn't no different from th' other trees," he had said.

"We couldn't never tell him how it broke, poor lad.

If he says anything about it we mun--we mun try to look cheerful." "Aye, that we mun," had answered Mary.
But she had not felt as if she looked cheerful when she gazed at the tree.