Bethune relished the remark so little that he chirped to the mules, but Mr. Sanders seized the reins in his own hands. "We've fit an' we've fout, an' we've got knocked out," he went on, "an' now, here we are ready for to take a fresh start. The Lord send that it's the right start." He would have driven on, but at that moment, a shabby looking vehicle drew up alongside the waggon. Gabriel and Cephas knew at once that the outfit belonged to Mr. Goodlett. His mismatched team consisted of a very large horse and a very small mule, both of them veterans of the war. They had been left by the Federals in a broken-down condition, and Mr. Goodlett found them grazing about, trying to pick up a living. He appropriated them, fed them well, and was now utilising them not only for farm purposes, but for conveying stray travellers to and from Malvern, earning in this way many a dollar that would have gone elsewhere. Mr. Goodlett drew rein when he saw Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune, and gave them as cordial a greeting as he could, for he was a very undemonstrative and reticent man. At that time both Gabriel and Cephas thought he was both sour and surly, but, in the course of events, their opinions in regard to that and a great many other matters underwent a considerable change. CHAPTER FOUR _Mr. Goodlett's Passengers_ The vehicle that Mr. Goodlett was driving was an old hack that had been used for long years to ply between Shady Dale and Malvern. On this occasion, Mr. Goodlett had for his passengers a lady and a young woman apparently about Nan's age. There was such a contrast between the two that Gabriel became absorbed in contemplating them; so much so that he failed to hear the greetings that passed between Mr. Goodlett and Mr. Sanders, who were old-time friends. The elder of the two women was emaciated to a degree, and her face was pale to the point of ghastliness; but in spite of her apparent weakness, there was an ease and a refinement in her manner, a repose and a self-possession that reminded Gabriel of his grandmother, when she was receiving the fine ladies from a distance who sometimes called on her. The younger of the two women, on the other hand, was the picture of health. The buoyancy of youth possessed her. She had an eager, impatient way of handling her fan and handkerchief, and there was a twinkle in her eye that spoke of humour; but her glance never fell directly on the men in the waggon; all her attention was for the invalid. Mr. Goodlett, his greeting over, was for pushing on, but the voice of the invalid detained him. "Can you tell me," she said, turning to Mr. Sanders, "whether the Gaither Place is occupied? Oh, but I forgot; you are just returning from that horrible, horrible war." She had lifted herself from a reclining position, but fell back hopelessly. "Why, Ab thar ought to be able to tell you that," responded Mr. Sanders, his voice full of sympathy.