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Helena waited for no more. She raced to the cottage and around to the front. A wagon was standing before the porch; the negro porter on the seat. "What is it, Sam?" she called anxiously, as she came up. "Is Mrs. Thornton seriously ill?" "Yas yas'um, miss," Sam answered excitedly. "I done feel in mah bones she's gwine to die.
Madison what the trouble is and tell him that I sent you, and that I am here. Do you understand?" "Yas'um, mum," said Sam impressively. "Just you done leab all that to me, missy." Across the track on the siding, the private car was dimly lighted, the window curtains down. Helena crossed the track and mounted the steps.
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