"God A'mighty bless you, Marse Peyton, honey!" she exclaimed as the train moved off; and as long as Helen could see her, she was waving her hands in farewell. Both Helen and her aunt had watched this scene with considerable interest, and now, when the gentleman had been escorted to his seat by the obsequious porter, they regarded him with some curiosity. He appeared to be about thirty-five years old. His face would have been called exceedingly handsome but for a scar on his right cheek; and yet, on closer inspection, the scar seemed somehow to fit the firm outlines of his features. His brown beard emphasized the strength of his chin. His nose was slightly aquiline, his eyebrows were a trifle rugged, and his hair was brushed straight back from a high forehead. His face was that of a man who had seen rough service and enjoyed it keenly--a face full of fire and resolution with some subtle suggestion of tenderness. "She called him 'Master,' Helen," said Miss Tewksbury after a while, referring to the scene at the station; "did you hear her?" Miss Tewksbury's tone implied wrathfulness that was too sure of its own justification to assert itself noisily. "I heard her," Helen replied. "She called him Master, and he called her Mammy. It was a very pleasing exchange of compliments." Such further comment as the ladies may have felt called on to make--for it was a matter in which both were very much interested--was postponed for the time being. A passenger occupying a seat in the farther end of the coach had recognized the gentleman whose valise was labeled "Peyton Garwood," and now pressed forward to greet him. This passenger was a very aggressive-looking person. He was short and stout, but there was no suggestion of jollity or even of good-humor in his rotundity. No one would have made the mistake of alluding to him as a fat man. He would have been characterized as the pudgy man; and even his pudginess was aggressive. He had evidently determined to be dignified at any cost, but his seriousness seemed to be perfectly gratuitous. "Gener'l Garwood?" he said in an impressive tone, as he leaned over the tall gentleman's seat. "Ah! Goolsby!" exclaimed the other, extending his hand. "Why, how do you do? Sit down." Goolsby's pudginess became more apparent and apparently more aggressive than ever when he seated himself near General Garwood. "Well, sir, I can't say my health's any too good. You look mighty well yourse'f, gener'l. How are things?" said Goolsby, pushing his traveling-cap over his eyes, and frowning as if in pain. "Oh, affairs seem to be improving," General Garwood replied.