orse trough," he explained. "Then I walked on the ceiling."

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

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

Sarah looked again. The footprints were too small to belong to anyone
but Johnny. She looked at Abe. He seemed to have taken a sudden liking
for 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 me
upside 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 a
mother hen ruffling its feathers. "Well, Abe, have you got anything to
say 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. 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