he won't say much; don't you be scared, Ephraim," whispered
Caleb.

But Ephraim, curious to say, did not feel scared. Suddenly his mother
seemed to have lost all her terrifying influence over him. He felt
very strange, and as if he were sinking away from it all through deep
abysses.

His mother came back, and she held a stout stick in her right hand.
Caleb gasped when he saw it. "Mother, you ain't goin' to whip him?"
he cried out.

"Father, you keep still!" commanded Deborah. "Ephraim, you come with
me!"

She led the way into Ephraim's little bedroom, and he stumbled up and
followed her. He saw the stick before him in his mother's hand; he
knew she was going to whip him, but he did not feel in the least
disturbed or afraid. Ezra Ray could not have faced a whipping any
more courageously than Ephraim. But he staggered as he went, and his
feet met the floor with strange shocks, since he had prepared his
steps for those deep abysses.

He and his mother stood together in his little bedroom. She, when she
faced him, saw how ill he looked, but she steeled herself against
that. She had seen him look as badly before; she was not to be
daunted by that from her high purpose. For it was a high purpose to
Deborah Thayer. She did not realize the part which her own human will
had in it.

She lifted up her voice and spoke solemnly. Caleb, listening, all
trembling, at the kitchen door, heard her.

"Ephraim," said his mother, "I have spared the rod with you all my
life because you were sick. Your brother and your sister have both
rebelled against the Lord and against me. You are all the child I've
got left. You've got to mind me and do right. I ain't goin' to spare
you any longer because you ain't well. It is better you should be
sick than be well and wicked and disobedient. It is better that your
body should suffer than your immortal soul. Stand still."

Deborah raised her stick, and brought it down. She raised it again,
but suddenly Ephraim made a strange noise and sunk away before it,
down in a heap on the floor.

Caleb heard him fall, and came quickly.

"Oh, mother," he sobbed, "is he dead? What ails him?"

"He's got a bad spell," said Deborah. "Help me lay him on the bed."
Her face was ghastly. She spoke with hoarse pulls for breath, but she
did not flinch. She and Caleb laid Ephraim on his bed; then she
worked over him for a few minutes with mustard and hot-water--all the
simple remedies in which she was skilled. Sh