Tom went
out to the wagon to unhitch the horses. Dennis brought in more firewood.
Abe and Mathilda started for the spring, swinging the water pail between
them. Betsy mixed a fresh batch of cornbread in the iron skillet, and
Sally 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 smell
of frying bacon filled the air. There were no dishes, 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.
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