and hide. Abe said "Howdy" somewhere down inside his stomach.

Sarah, Tom's new wife, looked around the littered yard, then at the
cabin. It did not even have a window! It did not have a door that would
open and shut--only a ragged bearskin flapping in the wind. She had
known Tom since he was a boy and had always liked him. Her first
husband, Mr. Johnston, had died some time before, and when Tom had
returned to Kentucky and asked her to marry him, she had said yes. He
had told her that his children needed a mother's care, and he was right.

Poor young ones! she thought. Aloud she said, "Well, let's not all
stand out here and freeze. Can't we go inside and get warm?"

The inside of the cabin seemed almost as cold as the outdoors. And even
more untidy. Johnny clung to his mother's skirt and started to cry. He
wanted to go back to Kentucky. His sisters peered through the gloom,
trying to see in the dim light. Sally was sure that they were looking at
her. She sat down hastily and tucked her feet as far back as she could
under the stool. Abe stood quite still, watching this strange woman who
had come without warning to take his mother's place.

She smiled at him. He did not smile back.

Slowly she turned and looked around. Her clear gray eyes took in every
nook, every crack of the miserable little one-room house. She noticed
the dirty bearskins piled on the pole bed in the corner. She saw the
pegs in the wall that led to the loft. The fire smoldering in the
fireplace gave out more smoke than heat.

"The first thing we'd better do," she said, taking off her bonnet, "is