His mother moved, and brought her eyes on a
range with his, and the two faces confronted each other in silence,
while it was as if two wills clashed swords in advance of them.
Then Mrs. Thayer moved away. "I ain't never goin' to say anything
more to you about it," she said; "but there's one thing--you needn't
come home to dinner. You sha'n't ever sit down to a meal in your
father's and mother's house whilst this goes on."
"G'lang!" said Barnabas. The horse started, and he bent to the
plough. His mother stepped homeward over the plough-ridges with stern
unyielding steps, as if they were her enemies slain in battle.
Just as she reached her own yard her husband drove in on a rattling
farm cart. She beckoned to him, and he pulled the horse up short.
"I've told him he needn't come home to dinner," she said, standing
close to the wheel.
Caleb looked down at her with a scared expression. "Well, I s'pose
you know what's best, Deborah," he said.
"If he can't do what's right he's got to suffer for it," returned
Deborah.
She went into the house, and Caleb drove clanking into the barn.
Before dinner the old man stole off across lots, keeping well out of
sight of the kitchen windows lest his wife should see him, and
pleaded with Barnabas, but all in vain. The young man was more
outspoken with his father, but he was just as firm.
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