Abe Lincoln Gets His Chance Part 6

"Take a gourdful of soap with you," said Sarah. "And mind you, no reading until you finish washing your hair."

He grumbled under his breath as he walked down to the horse trough. With a new book waiting to be read, washing his hair seemed a waste of time.

But if that was what Sarah wanted, he would do it. He lathered his head with soap and ducked it into the water. Some of the soap got into his eyes and he began to sputter. He heard a giggle.

"Hey, Johnny, is that you?" he said. "Get a bucket of water--quick!"

Johnny, the eight-year-old stepbrother, was glad to oblige. He poured bucket after bucket of water over Abe's head. Finally all of the soap was rinsed out of his hair. Abe took the tail of his shirt and wiped the soap out of his eyes. Both boys were covered with water. The ground around the horse trough was like a muddy little swamp. Johnny was delighted. He liked to feel the mud squish up between his toes.

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"Look at me, Abe," he shouted. "Ain't we having fun?"

Abe took his young stepbrother by the hand. His eyes were twinkling.

"I've thought of something else that's fun. Come on, we're going to play a joke on Mamma."

When Sarah returned to the cabin late that afternoon, she noticed that Abe's hair was still damp. He was very quiet as he stood by the fireplace and swung the big kettle outward. He dipped out the potatoes with an iron spoon. Tom and Dennis came in, both somewhat grumpy. They had not brought back a single squirrel.

Only Johnny seemed in good spirits. He whispered in Mathilda's ear. They both began to giggle. By the time the family had gathered around the table, Betsy and Dennis had been let in on the secret, whatever it was.

They were red in the face from trying not to laugh.

"Quiet!" said Tom. "Quiet, while I say the blessing."

"We thank thee. Lord--" he began.

Tom usually gave thanks for each kind of food on the table. But today there was only a dish of dried-up potatoes. "We thank Thee, Lord," he went on, "for all these blessings."

"Mighty poor blessings," said Abe.

The girls giggled again. Dennis threw back his head and roared. Johnny was laughing so hard that he fell off his stool. He lay on the floor, rolling and shrieking.

"I wish you young ones would stop carrying on," said Sarah, "and tell me what you're carrying on about."

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"Oh, Mamma, can't you see?" said Betsy. "Look up."

Sarah gasped. Marching across the cabin ceiling were the muddy marks of two bare feet.

"Don't they look like Johnny's feet?" Mathilda asked.

"Johnny Johnston, you come right here," said Sarah sternly.

Johnny picked himself up from the rag rug before the fireplace. He went over and stood before his mother. His blue eyes danced. This was one scolding that he looked forward to.

"Now tell me the truth. What do you mean by--"

Sarah paused. She could hardly scold her son for walking on the ceiling.

Johnny had been told exactly what to say. "I got my feet all muddy down at the horse 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 ap.r.o.n over her head. The children watched the peculiar way the ap.r.o.n 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."