shes, but Sally kept
large pieces of bark in the cupboard. Eight people sat down at the one
little table, but no one seemed to mind that it was crowded.

The Lincoln children had almost forgotten how good bacon could taste.
Abe ate in silence, his eyes on his plate. Sally seemed to feel much
better. Sitting between her stepsisters, she was soon chattering with
them as though they were old friends. Once she called the new Mrs.
Lincoln "Mamma," just as her own daughters did. Dennis sat on the other
side of Betsy. He seemed to be enjoying himself most of all. He sopped
up his last drop of golden honey on his last piece of cornbread.

[Illustration]

"I declare," he said, grinning, "we ain't had a meal like this since
Nancy died."

Abe jumped up at the mention of his mother's name. He was afraid that he
was going to cry. He had started for the door, when he felt his father's
rough hand on his shoulder.

"Abe Lincoln, you set right down there and finish your cornbread."

Abe looked up at Tom out of frightened gray eyes. But he shook his head.
"I can't, Pa."

"A nice way to treat your new ma!" Tom Lincoln sounded both angry and
embarrassed. "You clean up your plate or I'll give you a good hiding."

The young Johnstons gasped. Abe could hear Sally's whisper: "Please,
Abe! Do as Pa says." Then he heard another voice.

"Let the boy be, Tom." It was Sarah Lincoln speaking.

There was something about the way she said it that made Abe decide to
come back and sit down. He managed somehow to eat the rest of his
cornbread. He looked up and saw that she was smiling at him again. He
almost smiled back.

Sarah looked relieved. "Abe and I," she said, "are going to have plenty
of chance to get acquainted."

5

[Illustration]

Sarah Rose from the table. "There's a lot of work to be done here," she
announced, "before we can bring in my plunder." She meant her furniture
and other possessions in the wagon. "First, we'll need plenty of hot
water. Who wants to go to the spring?"

She was looking at Abe. "I'll go, ma'am." He grabbed the water bucket
and hurried through the door.

Abe made several trips to the spring that afternoon. Each bucket full of
water that he brought back was poured into the big iron kettle over the
fireplace. Higher and higher roared the flames. When Sarah wasn't asking
for more water, she was asking for more wood. The steady chop-chop of
Tom's ax could be heard from the wood lot.

Everyone w