"I'll jest speak to her," he proclaimed, courageously.
"She knows it's ready.

You set still," said Deborah.

And Caleb drew his chair close again, and loaded his knife with toast, bringing it around to his mouth with a dexterous sidewise motion.
"She ain't sick, is she ?" he said, presently, with a casual air.
"No, I guess she ain't sick." "I s'pose she eat so many cherries she didn't want any supper," Caleb said, chuckling anxiously.

His wife made no reply.

Ephraim reached over slyly for the toast-spoon, and she pushed his hand back.
"You can't have any more," said she.
"Can't I have jest a little more, mother ?" "No, you can't." "I feel faint at my stomach, mother." "You can keep on feelin' faint." "Can't I have a piece of pie, mother ?" "You can't have another mouthful of anything to eat to-night." Ephraim clapped his hand to his side again and sighed, but his mother took no notice.
"Have you got a pain, sonny ?" asked Caleb.
"Yes, dreadful.