She stood before the mirror in the cabin
putting on her sunbonnet.
"Your pa and Dennis have gone squirrel hunting," she said, as she tied
the strings in a neat bow beneath her chin. "The gals and I are going to
visit a new neighbor. Will you keep an eye on Johnny and put some
'taters on to boil for supper?"
"Oh, Ma, not potatoes again?"
"They will be right tasty with a mess of squirrel. Before you put the
'taters on--"
Abe patted the book inside his shirt front. "I can read?" he asked.
"You can, after you go down to the horse trough and wash your head."
"Wash my head? How come?" Abe wailed.
"Take a look at that ceiling, and you'll know how come. See that dark
spot? Your head made that. You're getting so tall you bump into the
ceiling every time you climb into the loft."
Abe rolled his eyes upward. "If some of that learning I've got cooped up
in my head starts leaking out, how can I help it?"
Sarah refused to be put off by any of his foolishness. "When you track
dirt into the house, I can wash the floor," she said. "But I can't get
to the ceiling so easy. It needs a new coat of whitewash, but there's no
use in doing it if your head ain't clean.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52