"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 same time he was disappointed. He
had been thinking about that book all afternoon.
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