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your conference. You may take it to your room to
read, if you return it for other guests.”
    Walking to the table, Sherman said, “I’m curious
about what people think, not newspapers.”
    “ What common people think? We think about food and
shelter. Simple things, things you probably don’t
understand.”
    “ I understand. I’m not rich. But
surely you have other aspirations?”
    “ When my husband died, his partner
took the business. I didn’t even receive a share of the profit from
the enterprises he’d already started. All I have is this house. I’m
not complaining; I’m lucky compared to many widows.” Then with a
taunting look, she added, “But if you wish to please me, move the
capital from New York to Philadelphia.”
    “ I want to please all my
countrymen.”
    “ I’m sure you gentlemen will figure it
out. You don’t need the advice of a mere woman.”
    She punctuated this last with a return to
her knitting that closed the conversation. Sherman took the cue and
made his way to his sparsely furnished quarters. As he ascended the
stairs, the landing above suddenly went black. Purposely trudging
with a heavier step, Sherman made a guttural noise.
    A voice floated from the dark. “Excuse me,
sir, I thought everyone had retired. Just a moment.”
    Sherman heard the strike of a tinder pistol.
A small light flitted like a firefly, and then a lamp grew a flame
to light the landing. Sherman saw shadows dance across an
indistinct ebony face as the man bent over to replace the glass
chimney. Finished with his task, the man straightened. He seemed to
unwind forever and finally stood a full head taller than Sherman’s
six foot two.
    “ I’m Howard. I help Mrs. Marshall with
the house. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
    “ Not necessary,” Sherman said,
extending his hand. “I’m Roger Sherman, a delegate to the
convention.”
    “ Pleased to meet you,” Howard said,
apparently surprised by the proffered hand. “May I light the
candles in your room?”
    “ Please. The room is still foreign to
me.”
    Howard was tall and thin, like a slender
reed reaching for the sun. Sherman waited in the hall until Howard
lit a candle in his room. As a whiff of beeswax reached the
doorway, the servant crossed the room and banished dark from
another corner. Sherman marveled at how the tall black man moved
with such physical assurance.
    “ Thank you. I appreciate your
thoughtfulness.”
    “ Let me know if there’s anything else
I can do to make your stay more pleasant. I can bring tea to your
room in the afternoons.”
    “ I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “ Is there anything else this
evening?”
    “ No, thank you, Howard. I’ll mention
your courtesy to Mrs. Marshall.”
    “ Quite unnecessary. Good night,
sir.”
    Howard departed from the room with no more
noise than a cat. Sherman, who had the grace of a pregnant sow,
envied Howard’s comfort with his tall body. He already liked the
man, which made him feel better about his accommodations. His
conversation with Mrs. Marshall had disappointed him. He normally
related well to people he encountered. Sherman hoped her cooking
would make up for her sour temperament.
    His room possessed two luxuries he
appreciated: a rope bed with a good feather mattress and a stuffed
wing chair situated by a window, both well used but serviceable.
The only other furnishings were a small writing shelf, a
straight-backed chair, and a scuffed-up chest of drawers. Pegs on
the wall sufficed to hang his few items of clothing, and when he
looked under the bed, he found the requisite chamber pot.
    Sherman wasn’t impoverished, but he used
care with his limited funds. Like many patriots, he had contributed
his savings to the Revolutionary cause. He didn’t regret his lack
of wealth because his wants were few. Honor loomed far larger in
his estimation than personal extravagance. He had his religious
faith, a large family, and the respect of his countrymen. For over
forty years, he had