Abe Lincoln Gets His Chance

  7

  Abe went right on adding inches. By the time he was fourteen he was astall as his father. Sally was working as a hired girl that summer forMr. and Mrs. Josiah Crawford. Abe worked for them off and on. Oneafternoon he finished his chores early, and Mrs. Crawford sent him home.Abe was glad. Josiah had lent him a new book--a life of GeorgeWashington--and he wanted to start reading it.

  When he reached the Lincoln cabin, he found Betsy and Mathilda waitingoutside for their mother. She stood before the mirror in the cabinputting on her sunbonnet.

  "Your pa and Dennis have gone squirrel hunting," she said, as she tiedthe strings in a neat bow beneath her chin. "The gals and I are going tovisit a new neighbor. Will you keep an eye on Johnny and put some'taters on to boil for supper?"

  "Oh, Ma, not potatoes again?"

  "They will be right tasty with a mess of squirrel. Before you put the'taters on--"

  Abe patted the book inside his shirt front. "I can read?" he asked.

  "You can, after you go down to the horse trough and wash your head."

  "Wash my head? How come?" Abe wailed.

  "Take a look at that ceiling, and you'll know how come. See that darkspot? Your head made that. You're getting so tall you bump into theceiling every time you climb into the loft."

  Abe rolled his eyes upward. "If some of that learning I've got cooped upin my head starts leaking out, how can I help it?"

  Sarah refused to be put off by any of his foolishness. "When you trackdirt into the house, I can wash the floor," she said. "But I can't getto the ceiling so easy. It needs a new coat of whitewash, but there's nouse in doing it if your head ain't clean."

  "All right," said Abe meekly.

  "Take a gourdful of soap with you," said Sarah. "And mind you, noreading until you finish washing your hair."

  He grumbled under his breath as he walked down to the horse trough. Witha new book waiting to be read, washing his hair seemed a waste of time.But if that was what Sarah wanted, he would do it. He lathered his headwith soap and ducked it into the water. Some of the soap got into hiseyes and he began to sputter. He heard a giggle.

  "Hey, Johnny, is that you?" he said. "Get a bucket of water--quick!"

  Johnny, the eight-year-old stepbrother, was glad to oblige. He pouredbucket after bucket of water over Abe's head. Finally all of the soap wasrinsed out of his hair. Abe took the tail of his shirt and wiped the soapout of his eyes. Both boys were covered with water. The ground around thehorse trough was like a muddy little swamp. Johnny was delighted. He likedto feel the mud squish up between his toes.

  "Look at me, Abe," he shouted. "Ain't we having fun?"

  Abe took his young stepbrother by the hand. His eyes were twinkling."I've thought of something else that's fun. Come on, we're going to playa joke on Mamma."

  When Sarah returned to the cabin late that afternoon, she noticed thatAbe's hair was still damp. He was very quiet as he stood by thefireplace and swung the big kettle outward. He dipped out the potatoeswith an iron spoon. Tom and Dennis came in, both somewhat grumpy. Theyhad not brought back a single squirrel.

  Only Johnny seemed in good spirits. He whispered in Mathilda's ear. Theyboth began to giggle. By the time the family had gathered around thetable, Betsy and Dennis had been let in on the secret, whatever it was.They were red in the face from trying not to laugh.

  "Quiet!" said Tom. "Quiet, while I say the blessing."

  "We thank thee. Lord--" he began.

  Tom usually gave thanks for each kind of food on the table. But todaythere was only a dish of dried-up potatoes. "We thank Thee, Lord," hewent on, "for all these blessings."

  "Mighty poor blessings," said Abe.

  The girls giggled again. Dennis threw back his head and roared. Johnnywas laughing so hard that he fell off his stool. He lay on the floor,rolling and shrieking.

  "I wish you young ones would stop carrying on," said Sarah, "and tell mewhat you're carrying on about."

  "Oh, Mamma, can't you see?" said Betsy. "Look up."

  Sarah gasped. Marching across the cabin ceiling were the muddy marks oftwo bare feet.

  "Don't they look like Johnny's feet?" Mathilda asked.

  "Johnny Johnston, you come right here," said Sarah sternly.

  Johnny picked himself up from the rag rug before the fireplace. He wentover and stood before his mother. His blue eyes danced. This was onescolding that he looked forward to.

  "Now tell me the truth. What do you mean by--"

  Sarah paused. She could hardly scold her son for walking on the ceiling.

  Johnny had been told exactly what to say. "I got my feet all muddy downat the horse trough," he explained. "Then I walked on the ceiling."

  "You walked on the ceiling? Johnny Johnston, you know it's wicked tolie."

  "I'm not lying. Those are my footprints."

  Sarah looked again. The footprints were too small to belong to anyonebut Johnny. She looked at Abe. He seemed to have taken a sudden likingfor boiled potatoes and kept his eyes on his plate.

  "Abe Lincoln, is this some of your tomfoolery?"

  "I--I reckon so."

  "But how--"

  "It was easy," Johnny interrupted. "I held my legs stiff and Abe held meupside down, and I walked."

  Abe stood up, pushing back his stool. He glanced toward the door.

  Sarah was not often angry. When she was, she reminded her children of amother hen ruffling its feathers. "Well, Abe, have you got anything tosay for yourself?"

  Abe shook his head. Suddenly his joke did not seem quite so funny.

  "I declare!" said Sarah. "A big boy like you! You ought to be spanked."

  The children looked at tall, lanky Abe towering over their mother. Theyburst out laughing again. "Mamma's going to spank Abe!" they chanted."Mamma's going to spank Abe."

  Dennis brought both hands down on the table with a loud whack. "That's agood one, that is," he roared.

  Sarah threw her apron over her head. The children watched the peculiarway the apron began to shake. When she took it down, they saw that shewas laughing. She was laughing so hard that the tears ran down hercheeks.

  "I reckon I'll have to let you off, Abe," she said. "You'd be a mite toobig for me to handle."

  Tom jumped up. "He ain't too big for me. He ain't too big for agood-sized hickory switch."

  Sarah bit her lip, her own brief anger forgotten. "Now, Tom," sheprotested.

  "You ain't going to talk me out of it this time."

  "I--I was aiming to whitewash the ceiling, Pa," said Abe. "Ma said itneeded a fresh coat."

  Sarah looked relieved. "That is exactly what he can do. Whitewash theceiling."

  "He can after I've given him a licking."

  Sarah put out her hand. "Sit down, Tom, and finish your 'taters beforethey get cold. I figure it this way. Before Abe starts reading that newbook, he can whitewash the ceiling. The walls, too. That ought to learnhim not to cut up any more didos."

  Sarah pulled down her mouth, trying to look stern. Tom sat down andstarted to eat his potato.

  "You're a good one, Sairy," he chuckled. "You sure know how to get workout of him."

  Abe looked at her gratefully. At the same time he was disappointed. Hehad been thinking about that book all afternoon.

  The next morning Sarah shooed everyone out of the cabin. Abe was down bythe horse trough, mixing the whitewash in a big tub. By the time hereturned, she had a bucket of hot water and a gourdful of soft soapready. After washing the inside of the cabin he got busy with thewhitewash. First he did the walls. Then he did the rafters and theceiling. He cocked his head, gazing at the muddy footprints.

  "They make a right pretty picture, ma'am. Shall I leave them on fordecoration?"

  Sarah, seated on a stool by the fireplace, looked up from her sewing."Abe, you big scamp. You get that ceiling nice and white, or I'll becarrying out my threat."

  The corners of her mouth were twitching. Abe grinned, glad to be atpeace with her again.

  "After I fini
sh here," he asked, "do you have any more chores?"

  "No, Abe. I reckon there will be time for you to do some reading. Butfirst, you finish your whitewashing. Then there's something I want totalk to you about."

  Abe dipped his brush into the whitewash again and again, until he hadcovered up the last telltale mark of Johnny's feet. The cabin was brightand shining when he finished. He pulled another stool up to thefireplace and sat facing Sarah.

  "I wasn't meaning to tell you just yet," she said. "Leastways until Ihad a chance to talk to your pa."

  "What is it, Mamma?"

  "There's a new neighbor come to Pigeon Creek," she said. "Man by thename of James Swaney. He is farming now, but he is fixing to keep aschool next winter."

  Abe jumped up and stood looking down at her. "Do you reckon that Pa--"

  "Your pa is worried," Sarah interrupted. "Money-worried. He may have tosell some of his land. That's why he gets riled so easy--likeyesterday."

  Abe flushed.

  "I want you to be careful," said Sarah. "Try not to get his dander up."

  "I'll try not to."

  "Maybe you recollect what I promised you when I first came. I said I'dask your pa to let you go to school again. Now I'm a body that believesin keeping my promises. I just want to wait till he feels good."

  Sarah's sewing basket spilled to the floor, as Abe pulled her to herfeet. He put his long arms around her waist and gave her a good bearhug.

  "Abe Lincoln, you're most choking me," she said breathlessly. "Here Iwas thinking how grown up you were getting to be. Now you be acting likea young one again."

  Abe kissed her on the cheek.