“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.”