nearly seven o'clock in the morning
Why , it might even endanger my friendship with Sir Henry Clinton . '' Betty left the room , but her lip curled as she said to herself , `` A Tory to the tips of his fingers ; God forbid that I should ever feel what Clarissa must . '' Very little sleep visited Betty that night -LRB- or what remained of it -RRB- as she lay with open eyes that strained into the growing dawn , picturing to herself Oliver 's flight across the North River , and hoping fervently that she had thrown the pursuit skillfully off his track . When at last she fell into a doze it was nearly seven o'clock in the morning , and Miranda , who softly entered the room , bringing fresh water , halted at the pillow , loth to waken her . `` Mistress Betty , '' she whispered . No reply , but the sleeper turned uneasily , and then opened her eyes . `` I certainly do hate to call you , but jes ' look here ; what you say for dat , little missy ? ''