If he guessed the number of kernels right and confiscated
the contents of his father's hand, he felt the gratified ambition of
a successful financier; if he lost, his heart sank, only to bound
higher with new hope for the next chance. A veritable gambling game
was holly-gull, but they gambled for innocent Indian-corn instead of
the coin of the realm, and nobody suspected it. The lack of value of
the stakes made the game quite harmless and unquestioned in public
opinion.
The waste of time was all Deborah's objection to the game. Caleb and
Ephraim said not a word about it to each other, but both kept an
anxious ear towards Deborah's returning sleigh-bells.
At last they both heard the loud, brazen jingle entering the yard,
and Caleb gathered all the corn together and stowed it away in his
pocket. Then he stood on the hearth, looking like a guilty child.
Ephraim went slowly over to the window; he did not feel quite so well
again.
Deborah's harsh "Whoa!" sounded before the door; presently she came
in, her garments radiating cold air, her arms full of bundles.
"What you standin' there for, father?" she demanded of Caleb. "Why
didn't you come out an' take some of these bundles? Why ain't you
goin' out an' puttin' the horse up instead of standin' there
starin'?"
"I'm goin' right off, mother," Caleb answered, apologetically; and he
turned his old back towards her and scuffled out in haste.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238