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.
“The apples I left for you to pare. I want to put 'em on before I get dinner.”
“I ain't heard nothin' about apples, mother.”
“Ain't you pared any apples this forenoon?”