“You didn’t, now?”

“Yes, I did.”

“An’ we didn’t neither on us wake up?”

“You was a-snorin’ the whole time.”

“I don’t s’pose you’d oughter have done it, Ephraim,” said Caleb, and he tried to make his tone severe.

“I never went a-coastin’ in my whole life before,” said Ephraim; “it ain’t fair.”

“I dunno what mother ’d say if she was to find out about it,” said Caleb, and he shook his head.

“Ezra Ray was the only one that was out there, an’ he said he wouldn’t tell.”

“Well, mebbe he won’t, mebbe he won’t.  I guess you most hadn’t oughter gone unbeknownst to your mother, sonny.”

“Barney’s sled jest beat Ezra’s all holler.”

“It did, hey?  That allers was a good sled,” returned the old man, chuckling.

Caleb went into the pantry again, and returned rattling a handful of corn.  “Want a game of holly-gull?” he asked.  “I’ve got a leetle time to spare now while mother’s gone.”

“Guess so,” replied Ephraim.  He dragged his chair forward to the hearth; he and his father sat opposite each other and played the old childish game of holly-gull.  Ephraim was very fond of the game, and would have played it happily hour after hour had not Deborah esteemed it a sinful waste of time.  When Caleb held up his old fist, wherein he had securely stowed a certain number of kernels of corn, and demanded, “Holly-gull, hand full, passel how many?” Ephraim’s spirit was thrilled with a fine stimulation, of which he had known little in his life.  If he guessed the number of kernels right and confiscated the contents of his father’s hand, he felt the gratified ambition of a successful financier; if he lost, his heart sank, only to bound higher with new hope for the next chance.  A veritable gambling game was holly-gull, but they gambled for innocent Indian-corn instead of the coin of the realm, and nobody suspected it.  The lack of value of the stakes made the game quite harmless and unquestioned in public opinion.

The waste of time was all Deborah’s objection to the game.  Caleb and Ephraim said not a word about it to each other, but both kept an anxious ear towards Deborah’s returning sleigh-bells.

At last they both heard the loud, brazen jingle entering the yard, and Caleb gathered all the corn together and stowed it away in his pocket.  Then he stood on the hearth, looking like a guilty child.  Ephraim went slowly over to the window; he did not feel quite so well again.

Deborah’s harsh “Whoa!” sounded before the door; presently she came in, her garments radiating cold air, her arms full of bundles.

“What you standin’ there for, father?” she demanded of Caleb.  “Why didn’t you come out an’ take some of these bundles?  Why ain’t you goin’ out an’ puttin’ the horse up instead of standin’ there starin’?”

“I’m goin’ right off, mother,” Caleb answered, apologetically; and he turned his old back towards her and scuffled out in haste.