4
Abe took another bite of cornbread and swallowed hard. "Don't you likeit?" asked Sally anxiously. "I know it doesn't taste like the cornbreadMammy used to make."
She looked around the room. The furniture was the same as their motherhad used--a homemade table and a few three-legged stools. The samebearskin hung before the hole in the wall that was their only door. ButNancy had kept the cabin clean. She had known how to build a fire thatdidn't smoke. Sally glanced down at her faded linsey-woolsey dress,soiled with soot. The dirt floor felt cold to her bare feet. Her lastpair of moccasins had worn out weeks ago.
"I don't mind the cornbread--at least, not much." Abe finished hispiece, down to the last crumb. "If I seem down in the mouth, Sally, itis just because--"
He walked over to the fireplace, where he stood with his back to theroom.
"He misses Nancy," said Dennis bluntly, "the same as the rest of us.Then Tom has been gone for quite a spell."
Sally put her hand on Abe's shoulder. "I'm scared. Do you reckonsomething has happened to Pappy? Isn't he ever coming back?"
Abe stared into the fire. He was thinking of the wolves and panthersloose in the woods. There were many dangers for a man riding alone overthe rough forest paths. The boy wanted to say something to comfortSally, but he had to tell the truth. "I don't know, I--"
He stopped to listen. Few travelers passed by their cabin in the winter,but he was sure that he heard a faint noise in the distance. It soundedlike the creak of wheels. The noise came again--this time much closer. Aman's voice was shouting: "Get-up! Get-up!"
"Maybe it's Pappy!" Abe pushed aside the bearskin and rushed outside.Sally and Dennis were right behind him.
"It _is_ Pappy," Sally cried. "But look--"
Tom Lincoln had left Pigeon Creek on horseback. He was returning in awagon drawn by four horses. He was not alone. A strange woman sat besidehim, holding a small boy in her lap. Two girls, one about Sally's age,the other about eight, stood behind her. The wagon was piled high withfurniture--more furniture than the Lincoln children had ever seen.
"Whoa, there!" Tom Lincoln pulled at the reins and brought the wagon toa stop before the door.
"Here we are, Sarah." He jumped down and held out his hand to help thewoman.
She was very neat looking, tall and straight, with neat little curlsshowing at the edge of her brown hood. She said, "Tsch! Tsch!" when shesaw Tom's children. She stared at their soiled clothing, their mattedhair, their faces smudged with soot. "Tsch! Tsch!" she said again, andAbe felt hot all over in spite of the cold wind. He dug the toe of hismoccasin into the frozen ground.
"Abe! Sally!" their father said. "I've brought you a new mammy. Thishere is the Widow Johnston. That is, she was the Widow Johnston." Hecleared his throat. "She is Mrs. Lincoln now. I've been back to Kentuckyto get myself a wife."
"Howdy!" The new Mrs. Lincoln was trying to sound cheerful. She beckonedto the children in the wagon. They jumped down and stood beside her."These here are my young ones," she went on. "The big gal is Betsy. Theother one is Mathilda. This little shaver is Johnny."
Dennis came forward to be introduced, but he had eyes only for Betsy.She gave him a coy look out of her china-blue eyes. Tilda smiled shylyat Sally. Both of the Johnston girls wore pretty linsey-woolsey dressesunder their shawls and neat moccasins on their feet. Sally, looking downat her own soiled dress and bare toes, wished that she could run awayand hide. Abe said "Howdy" somewhere down inside his stomach.
Sarah, Tom's new wife, looked around the littered yard, then at thecabin. It did not even have a window! It did not have a door that wouldopen and shut--only a ragged bearskin flapping in the wind. She hadknown Tom since he was a boy and had always liked him. Her firsthusband, Mr. Johnston, had died some time before, and when Tom hadreturned to Kentucky and asked her to marry him, she had said yes. Hehad told her that his children needed a mother's care, and he was right.
Poor young ones! she thought. Aloud she said, "Well, let's not allstand out here and freeze. Can't we go inside and get warm?"
The inside of the cabin seemed almost as cold as the outdoors. And evenmore untidy. Johnny clung to his mother's skirt and started to cry. Hewanted to go back to Kentucky. His sisters peered through the gloom,trying to see in the dim light. Sally was sure that they were looking ather. She sat down hastily and tucked her feet as far back as she couldunder the stool. Abe stood quite still, watching this strange woman whohad come without warning to take his mother's place.
She smiled at him. He did not smile back.
Slowly she turned and looked around. Her clear gray eyes took in everynook, every crack of the miserable little one-room house. She noticedthe dirty bearskins piled on the pole bed in the corner. She saw thepegs in the wall that led to the loft. The fire smoldering in thefireplace gave out more smoke than heat.
"The first thing we'd better do," she said, taking off her bonnet, "isto build up that fire. Then we'll get some victuals ready. I reckoneverybody will feel better when we've had a bite to eat."
From that moment things began to happen in the Lincoln cabin. Tom wentout to the wagon to unhitch the horses. Dennis brought in more firewood.Abe and Mathilda started for the spring, swinging the water pail betweenthem. Betsy mixed a fresh batch of cornbread in the iron skillet, andSally set it on the hearth to bake. Tom came back from the wagon,carrying a comb of honey and a slab of bacon, and soon the magic smellof frying bacon filled the air. There were no dishes, but Sally keptlarge pieces of bark in the cupboard. Eight people sat down at the onelittle 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 muchbetter. Sitting between her stepsisters, she was soon chattering withthem as though they were old friends. Once she called the new Mrs.Lincoln "Mamma," just as her own daughters did. Dennis sat on the otherside of Betsy. He seemed to be enjoying himself most of all. He soppedup his last drop of golden honey on his last piece of cornbread.
"I declare," he said, grinning, "we ain't had a meal like this sinceNancy died."
Abe jumped up at the mention of his mother's name. He was afraid that hewas going to cry. He had started for the door, when he felt his father'srough 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 andembarrassed. "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 tocome back and sit down. He managed somehow to eat the rest of hiscornbread. He looked up and saw that she was smiling at him again. Healmost smiled back.
Sarah looked relieved. "Abe and I," she said, "are going to have plentyof chance to get acquainted."