"Yes, 'Liza, you may go. I can trust you anywhere."
Obed's cords seemed to unloose, and his feet flew. In a few minutes Obed and English Eliza were mounted on the carriage seat, and were soon speeding away towards the doctor's, which was in the centre of the town.
"Now, Obed, you shall keep Halloween. Young people in England sometimes ride on this night by lonely places just to test their courage. Obed, I believe that you have only one fault, and that is what my poor mother would have called superstitious fear. I think it is wrong to tell such stories to children as they have told you in this country. It will unman you."
It was a still cool night. The wind after a changing day had gone down. The moon hung high in the heavens, now and then shadowed by a fragment of a broken cloud. The road was filled with fallen leaves, which deadened the sound of the wheels. The walnut-trees with their falling nuts sent forth a pleasant odor, and there was a cidery smell about the old orchards that here and there lined the way. They emerged at last from a wood, and came into full view of the old country grave-yard on the hill-side, when something really surprising met their view.
Obed dropped the reins, and Eliza caught them. His knees began to shake, and he chattered, "Prophets and apostles!"
The horse trotted on.
"Whoa! What is that?"
"Go long!" said English Eliza, in a firm voice.
"Turn round—quick," said Obed.
"I can't, Obed; the road is too narrow. And I am on an errand of duty to a sick woman, and I will not do it."