"Mr. Swaney doesn't ask for cash money. He'll take skins or
farm truck. We can manage that, I reckon."
Tom yawned. "Plumb foolishness, if you ask me. But Johnny and Mathilda
are your young ones. If you want to send them--"
"I want Sally and Abe to go, too," Sarah interrupted. "Abe most of all.
He is the one school will do the most good. He's the one who wants it
most."
Tom sat up. "I can spare the younger ones, but I need Abe. With us
poorer than Job's turkey, you ought to know that."
Sarah listened patiently. "I ain't talking about right now. Mr. Swaney
won't start his school till winter. Farm work will be slack then."
"I can hire Abe out to split rails, even in cold weather," Tom reminded
her. "Maybe I can get some odd jobs as a carpenter, and Abe can help
me."
"Abe ain't no great hand at carpentry."
"He can learn. Why, he's fourteen, Sairy. The idea, a big, strapping boy
like that going to school. I tell you, I won't have it."
"But I promised him."
It was the first time that Tom had ever heard a quaver in his wife's
voice. He looked away uneasily. "If you made a promise you can't keep,
that's your lookout.
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