“Oh, ma’am, this book by Mr. Aesop is one the schoolmaster had.  The stories are all about some smart talking animals.”

He seemed to have forgotten her, as he bent his neat shorn head down over the pages.  He chuckled when he read something that amused him.  Sarah watched him curiously.  He was not like her John.  He was not like any boy that she had ever known.  But the hungry look in his eyes went straight to her heart.

[Illustration]

He looked up at her shyly.  “Ma’am,” he said, “will you let me read these books sometimes?”

“Why, Abe, you can read them any time you like.  I’m giving them to you to keep.”

“Oh, Mamma!” The name slipped out as though he were used to saying it.  He had a feeling that Nancy, his own mother, had never gone away.

“You’re my boy, now,” Sarah told him, “and I aim to help you all I can.  The next time a school keeps in these parts, I’m going to ask your pappy to let you and the other children go.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Abe.  “I mean—­thank you, Mamma.”

6

[Illustration]

Many changes were taking place in the Lincoln cabin.  Sarah persuaded Tom to cut two holes in the walls for windows, and she covered them with greased paper to let in the light.  He made a wooden door that could be shut against the cold winter winds.  Abe and Dennis gave the walls and low ceiling a coat of whitewash, and Sarah spread her bright rag rugs on the new wooden floor.

“Aunt Sairy,” Dennis told her, “you’re some punkins.  One just naturally has to be somebody when you’re around.”

Abe smiled up at her shyly.  “It is sort of like the magic in that story of Sinbad you gave me.”

The other children were asleep.  Abe sprawled on the floor, making marks on a wooden shovel with a pointed stick.  Tom, seated in one of his wife’s chairs, was dozing on one side of the fireplace.

Sarah put down her knitting and looked around the cabin.  “The place does look right cozy,” she replied.  “What is that you’re doing, Abe?”

“Working my sums.”

Tom opened his eyes.  “You know how to figure enough already.  Put that shovel up and go to bed.”

Abe took a knife and scraped the figures from the wooden shovel.  He placed it against one side of the fireplace.  “Good night, Mamma,” he said.

“Good night, Abe.”

Sarah’s eyes were troubled.  She waited until Dennis had joined Abe in the loft, then turned to her husband.  “I’ve been meaning to tell you, Tom, what a good pa you’ve been to my young ones.”

She saw that he was pleased.  “I’ve tried to be a good mother to Abe and Sally, too,” she went on.

“You have been, Sairy.  They took to you right off.”

“I’m right glad, but there’s something else I want to talk to you about, Tom.”  He was nodding again in his chair, and she paused to make sure that he was listening.  “Abe’s a smart boy.  I told him the next time a school keeps in these parts, I’d ask you to let him and the other children go.”