de direction ob Ridgefield, whar I ken fin' a blacksmith's shop, shuh.
Ef madam pleases, it's goin' somewhat out of de direct way to White
Plains, but what wid de weather, which madam can see is obstreperous an'
onsartain, I'm ob de opinion dat Ridgefield am de best stoppin' place
for dis night, anyhow;" and having delivered himself of this
exhortation, Caesar touched his hat respectfully, but with an air of
having settled the question.

"Very well," said Mrs. Seymour, for she knew Caesar and Caesar's ways,
and moreover had much confidence in his ability to take care of her, as
well as of his horses. "Then take the turn to the right, as you propose.
Are you quite sure you are familiar with the road here, Caesar? It will
be dark soon, and I confess I should not like to lose our way."

"Not gwine to lose de road wid dis chile on de box," said Caesar with
fine disdain, as he climbed to his seat and rolled himself up warmly
again, his teeth chattering as he did so. But he said to himself, as the
horses started slowly, "Pray de Lord I ain't mistooken; don't want to
fall into none ob dem old redcoats' han's, Caesar don't, dat's sartain."

Inside the coach, which lumbered on so slowly that it almost seemed to
crawl, Mrs. Seymour and Betty tried to keep up their spirits by an
occasional remark of cheerful character, and Betty suggested that
perhaps some bread and cheese from the Beebe larder would prove
satisfactory to Caesar; but on asking the question Caesar only shook his
head, and responded that he was too busy looking after the horses to
eat; and the long hours dragged on as it grew darker and darker. Betty
rested her head against the door and peered out at the dripping trees,
whose bare limbs stood like skeletons against the leaden sky. Mrs.
Seymour had sunk into a fitful doze by her side. Suddenly the off horse