“Mind you tell your father about them apples,” repeated his mother as she went out.
“Yes, ma'am,” said Ephraim. He watched his mother drive out of the yard, guiding the horse carefully through the frozen ridges of the drive. Presently he took another spoonful of his medicine. He felt a little easier, but still very ill. His father came a few minutes after his mother had gone. He heard him stamping in through the back door; then his frost-reddened old face looked in on Ephraim.
“Mother gone?” said he.
“She's jest gone,” replied Ephraim. His father came in. He looked at the boy with a childish and anxious sweetness. “Don't you feel quite as well as you did?” he inquired.
“Dunno as I do.”
“Took your medicine reg'lar?”
Ephraim nodded.
“I guess it's good medicine,” said Caleb; “it come real high; I guess the doctor thought consid'ble of it. I'd take it reg'lar if I was you. I thought you looked as if you didn't feel quite so well as common when I come in.”
Caleb took off his boots and tended the fire. Ephraim began to feel a little better; his heart did not beat quite so laboriously.
He did not say a word to his father about paring the apples. Caleb went into the pantry and came back eating a slice of mince-pie.