Helen did not follow this timely advice at once. From her window she could see the constellations dragging their glittering procession westward; and she knew that the spirit of the night was whispering gently in the tall pines, but her thoughts were in a whirl. The scenes through which she had passed, and the people she had met, were new to her; and she lay awake and thought of them until at last the slow-moving stars left her wrapped in sleep—a sleep from which she was not aroused until William shook the foundations of the tavern with his melodious bell, informing everybody that the hour for breakfast had arrived.
Shortly afterward, William made his appearance in person, bringing an abundance of fresh, clear water. He appeared to be in excellent humor.
"What did you say your name is?" Helen asked. William chuckled, as if he thought the question was in the nature of a joke.
"I'm name' Willum, ma'am, en my mammy she name' Sa'er Jane, en de baby she name' Phillypeener. Miss 'Ria she say dat baby is de likelies' nigger baby w'at she y'ever been see sence de war en I speck she is, kaze Miss 'Ria ain't been talk dat away 'bout eve'y nigger baby w'at come 'long."
"How old are you?" Miss Tewksbury inquired.
"I dunno'm," said William placidly. "Miss 'Ria she says I'm lots older dan w'at I looks ter be, en I speck dat's so, kaze mammy sey dey got ter be a runt 'mongst all folks's famblies."
Helen laughed, and William went on:
"Mammy say ole Miss gwine come see you all. Mars Peyt gwine bring er."
"Who is old Miss?" Helen asked.
William gazed at her with unfeigned amusement.