"No, he won't have any lasses after it," said Deborah. "I'm a-tendin'
to him, father. Now, Ephraim, you take this medicine this minute, or
I shall give you somethin' worse than medicine. Open your mouth!" And
Ephraim opened his mouth as if his mother's will were a veritable
wedge between his teeth, swallowed the medicine with a miserable
gulp, and made a grotesque face of wrath and disgust. Caleb,
watching, swallowed and grimaced at the same instant that his son
did. There were tears in his old eyes as he took up another apple to
pare.
Deborah set the bottle on the shelf and laid the spoon beside it.
"You've got to take this every hour for a spell," said she, "an' I
ain't goin' to have any such work, if you be sick; you can make up
your mind to it."
And make up his mind to this unwelcome dose Ephraim did. Once an hour
his mother stood over him with the spoon, and the fierce odor of the
medicine came to his nostrils; he screwed his eyes tight, opened his
mouth, and swallowed without a word. There were limits to his
mother's patience which Ephraim dared not pass. He had only vague
ideas of what might happen if he did, but he preferred to be on the
safe side. So he took the medicine, and did not lift his voice
against it, although he had his thoughts.
It did seem as if the medicine benefited him. He breathed more easily
after a while, and his color was more natural.
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