"Well, come and take my horse," said he, as he began to descend
from his gig, "and send for Mr. Ware to come up at once."
The woman came forward doubtfully and took the horse by the bit,
while the traveler alighted. No sooner did he turn fully toward
her than her face lighted up with a smile, and she said,
"Wal, dar, ef dat a'n't Marse Desmit hisself, I do believe! How
d'ye do, Mahs'r?" and the woman dropped a courtesy.
"I'm very well, thank ye, Lorency, an' glad to see you looking so
peart," he responded pleasantly. "How's Mr. Ware and the people?
All well, I hope."
"All tol'able, Mahs'r, thank ye."
"Well, tie the horse, and get me some dinner, gal. I haven't eaten
since I left home."
"La sakes!" said the woman in a tone of commiseration, though she
had no idea whether it was twenty or forty miles he had driven
since his breakfast.
The man who sat upon the porch and waited for the coming of
Mr. Silas Ware, his overseer, was in the prime of life, of florid
complexion, rugged habit, short stubbly hair--thick and bristling,
that stood close and even on his round, heavy head from a little
way above the beetling brows well down upon the bull-like neck which
joined but hardly separated the massive head and herculean trunk.
This hair, now almost white, had been a yellowish red, a hue which
still showed in the eyebrows and in the stiff beard which was allowed
to grow beneath the angle of his massive jaw, the rest of his face
being clean shaven.
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