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.  They burst 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 a good one, that is,” he roared.

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

“I reckon I’ll have to let you off, Abe,” she said.  “You’d be a mite too big for me to handle.”

Tom jumped up.  “He ain’t too big for me.  He ain’t too big for a good-sized hickory switch.”

Sarah bit her lip, her own brief anger forgotten.  “Now, Tom,” she protested.

“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 it needed a fresh coat.”

Sarah looked relieved.  “That is exactly what he can do.  Whitewash the ceiling.”

“He can after I’ve given him a licking.”

Sarah put out her hand.  “Sit down, Tom, and finish your ’taters before they get cold.  I figure it this way.  Before Abe starts reading that new book, he can whitewash the ceiling.  The walls, too.  That ought to learn him not to cut up any more didos.”

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

“You’re a good one, Sairy,” he chuckled.  “You sure know how to get work out of him.”

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

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

“They make a right pretty picture, ma’am.  Shall I leave them on for decoration?”

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 be carrying out my threat.”

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

“After I finish here,” he asked, “do you have any more chores?”

“No, Abe.  I reckon there will be time for you to do some reading.  But first, you finish your whitewashing.  Then there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Abe dipped his brush into the whitewash again and again, until he had covered up the last telltale mark of Johnny’s feet.  The cabin was bright and shining when he finished.  He pulled another stool up to the fireplace and sat facing Sarah.