[Illustration: "A boyish figure fled swiftly out of the Thayer yard"]
Ephraim knew well the way to the coasting-hill, which was considered
the best in the village, although he had never coasted there himself,
except twice or thrice, surreptitiously, on another boy's sled, and
not once this winter. He heard no more shouts; the frosty air was
very still. He thought to himself that the other boys had gone home,
but he did not care.
However, when he reached the top of the hill there was another boy
with his sled. He had been all ready to coast down, but had seen
Ephraim coming, and waited.
"Hullo!" he called.
"Hullo!" returned Ephraim, panting.
Then the boy stared. "It ain't you, Ephraim Thayer!" he demanded.
"Why ain't it me?" returned Ephraim, with a manful air, swaggering
back his shoulders at the other boy, who was Ezra Ray.
"Why, I didn't know your mother ever let you out," said Ezra, in a
bewildered fashion. In fact, the vision of Ephraim Thayer out with a
sled, coasting, at eleven o'clock at night, was startling. Ezra
remembered dazedly how he had heard his mother say that very
afternoon that Ephraim was worse, that the doctor had been there last
Saturday, and she didn't believe he would live long. He looked at
Ephraim standing there in the moonlight almost as if he were a
spirit.
"She ain't let me for some time; I've been sick," admitted Ephraim,
yet with defiance.
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