“You’s got ter go, Cuddy, an’ dar ain’t no use er talkin’ ’bout it. I guess de ole Doctor kin charm off any ghost you’ll eber see. ’Sides, he won’t be out much nights when he got de rheumatiz ser bad. ’Tain’t ebry day yer kin git yer keep an’ ten dollars a month, an’ yer ought ter dribe fer him anyway, ter ’comerdate him, when he sabed yer troo de bronchiters.” So Cuddy went to the Doctor, and for a week all was well with him. He drove to all points from Wickford to Biscuit Town, and received such greeting and honor from all of his race as was due a governor. But an end came to all this content, for late on a misty, miserable September afternoon young Joe Champlin came riding up to the doctor’s door in great speed, and in a few moments the Doctor shouted out to Cuddy to harness up Peggy. Cuddy was wretched. He knew well where the Champlin farm lay--far up on Boston Neck--and he thought with keen terror of the lonely road, of the many little enclosed graveyards that lay between him and the Champlin homestead. Fear made him bold, and he managed to stammer out to the Doctor the request that he would have Joe Champlin hitch his saddle-horse behind the chaise and drive the Doctor to the farm, where horse and chaise and doctor could remain all night; then he (Cuddy) would walk up early in the morning to drive back. The Doctor scoffed at the ridiculous proposition, and barely gave Cuddy time ere they started to put on his coat and waistcoat wrong side out--a sure safeguard against ghosts. As they drove up Boston Neck in the misty twilight Cuddy suffered keen thrills of terror whenever he got down from the chaise to let down bars or open gates; for the only roads at that time in that region of Narragansett were drift-ways through the fields--well-travelled, to be sure--but still kept closed by gates. Cuddy clambered in and out of the chaise, and opened and closed the gates with an agility that amazed the Doctor, who had previously had frequent occasions in the daytime to revile him for his laziness in like duties. He also glanced with apprehension and dread at the family burying-grounds they passed, counting to himself the whole dreary number that would have to be repassed on the way home.