The next morning dawned cold and chilly; a few flakes of snow floated
through the air, and Mrs. Beebe urged strongly the wisdom of lying over
for twenty-four hours, lest a storm should come and render the roads
impassable. But Mrs. Seymour, after a consultation with Caesar, decided
that it was best to push on; winter was approaching, and each day made
the journey less feasible. There was a fairly good road between them and
White Plains, and now that she had started she was impatient to reach
the city. Betty, too, was eager to be off, so with many warm thanks,
they again packed the coach and said farewell to the hospitable Beebes,
who had insisted on adding fresh stores of provisions to their hamper;
and Billy's last act of friendliness was to slip into Betty's hand a
package of taffy, of his own manufacture, which he assured her "was not
over-sticky, provided you use care in biting it."

This part of the journey was cold and cheerless enough. The road wound
somewhat, and the settlements were few, even the houses were far apart
from each other; and although the hills were fewer, they heard Caesar
admonish his horses more frequently than usual, and about four o'clock
in the day they came to a full stop. The snow of the morning had turned
into a sort of drizzling rain; and Caesar, dismounting from his seat,
announced to his mistress that one of the horses had cast a shoe.

"What shall we do?" cried Mrs. Seymour in dismay, preparing to jump
down into the mud and investigate matters.

"Dey's no use at all of madam's gettin' out," said Caesar, holding the
door of the coach,--"no use at all. I'se done got de shoe, 'cause I saw
it a-comin' off, an' here it is. De horse will do well enuf, 'caise I'll
drive wif care; but what I wants to say is that, 'cordin' to my
judgment, we had oughter take a turn to de right, just hyar, which am in