hat was what
killed him. He said you'd ought to know."

Deborah leaned forward; her face worked like the breaking up of an
icy river. "Be you sure?" said she.

"Ezra told me last night," interposed Mrs. Ray. "I had a hard time
gettin' it out of him; he promised Ephraim he wouldn't tell. But
somethin' he said made me suspect, an' I got it out of him. He said
Ephraim told him he run away, an' he left him there slidin' when he
came home. 'Twas as much as 'leven o'clock then; I remember I give
Ezra a whippin' next mornin' for stayin' out so late. But then, of
course, whippin' Ezra wa'n't nothin' like whippin' Ephraim."

"The doctor says most likely that was what killed him, after all, an'
you'd ought to know," said the doctor's wife.

"Be you sure?" said Deborah again.

"Ephraim wa'n't to blame. He never had no show; he never went
a-slidin' like the other little fellers," said Caleb, suddenly, out
of his corner; and he snivelled as he spoke.

Deborah turned on him sharply. "Did you know anything about it?" said
she.

"He told me on 't that mornin'," said Caleb; "he told me how he'd
been a-slidin', an' how he eat some mince-pie."

"Eat--some--mince-pie!" gasped Deborah, and there was a great light
of hope in her face.

"Well," said the doctor's wife, "if that boy eat mince-pie, an' slid
down hill, too, I guess you ain't much call to worry about anything
you've done, Mis' Thayer. I know what the doctor has said right
along."

The doctor's wife arose with a certain mild impressiveness, as if
some mantle of her husband's authority had fallen upon her. She shook
out her ample skirts as if they were redolent of rhubarb and mint.
"Well, I guess we had better be going," said she, and her inflections
were like the doctor's.

Mrs. Ray rose also. "Well, we thought you'd ought to know," said she.

"I'm much obliged to you," said Deborah.

She went through the kitchen with them. When the door was shut behind
them she turned to Caleb, who had shuffled along at her heels. "Oh,
father, why didn't you tell me if you knew, why didn't you tell me?"
she gasped out.

Caleb stared at her. "Why, mother?" he returned.

"Didn't you know I thought I'd killed him, father? didn't you know I
thought I'd killed my son? An' now maybe I haven't! maybe I haven't!
O Lord, I thank thee for letting me know before I die! Maybe I
haven't killed him, after all!"

"I didn't s'pose it would make any difference," said Caleb,
helplessly.

Su