He looked half scared, half important, as he sat
in the great rocking-chair by the fire. He breathed short, and his
words were disconnected as he spoke.
His mother, for answer, took the catechism from the shelf, and
extended it towards him with a decisive thrust of her arm.
"It is time you studied some more," said she.
Ephraim jerked himself away from the proffered book. "I don't want to
study any more now, mother," he whined.
"Take it," said Deborah.
Caleb was paring apples for pies on the other side of the hearth.
Ephraim looked across at him desperately. "I want to play holly-gull
with father," he said.
"Ephraim!"
"Can't I play holly-gull with father jest a little while?"
"You take this book and study your lesson," said Deborah, between
nearly closed lips.
Ephraim began to weep; he took the book with a vicious snatch and an
angry sob. "Won't never let me do anythin' I want to," he cried,
convulsively.
"Not another word," said Deborah. Ephraim bent over his catechism
with half-suppressed sobs. He dared not weep aloud. Deborah went into
the pantry with the medicine-bottle which the doctor had left; she
wanted a spoon. Caleb caught hold of her dress as she was passing
him.
"What is it?" said she.
"Look here, jest a minute, mother."
"I can't stop, father; Ephraim has got to have his medicine.
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