"Put on your cap!" Deborah called after him.
She laid off her many wraps, her hood and veil, and mufflers and
shawls, folded them carefully, and carried them into her bedroom, to
be laid in her bureau drawers. Deborah was very orderly and
methodical.
"Did you take your medicine?" she asked Ephraim as she went out of
the room.
"Yes, ma'am," said he. He did not feel nearly as well; he kept his
face turned from his mother. Ephraim was accustomed to complain
freely, but now the coasting and the mince-pie had made him patient.
He was quite sure that his bad feelings were due to that, and suppose
his mother should suspect and ask him what he had been doing! He was
also terrified by the thought of the holly-gull and her unfulfilled
order about the apple-paring. He sat very still; his heart shook his
whole body, which had grown thin lately. He looked very small, in
spite of his sturdy build.
Deborah was gone quite a while; she had left some work unfinished in
her bedroom that morning. Caleb returned before she did, and pulled
up a chair close to the fire. He was holding his reddened fingers out
towards the blaze to warm them when Deborah came in.
She looked at him, then around the room, inquiringly.
"Where did you put the apples?" said she to Caleb.
Caleb stared around at her. "What apples, mother?" he asked, feebly.
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