wrinkled and so red. It looked just like a cherry after the juice had
been squeezed out.

Nancy touched one of the tiny hands with the tip of her finger. "See his
wee red fists and the way he throws them around!" she said.

"What's his name?" Dennis asked at last.

"We're calling him after his grandpappy. Abraham Lincoln!"

"That great big name for that scrawny little mite?"

Nancy sounded hurt. "Give him a chance to grow, will you?"

Then she saw that Dennis was only teasing. "You wait!" she went on. "It
won't be long before Abe will be running around in buckskin breeches and
a coonskin cap."

"Well, maybe--"

The door opened, and Tom Lincoln, the baby's father, came in. With him
was Aunt Betsy Sparrow. She kissed Nancy and carried the baby over to a
stool by the fireplace. Making little cooing noises under her breath,
she dressed him in a white shirt and a yellow flannel petticoat. Sally
Lincoln, two years old, who did not know quite what to make of the new
brother, came over and stood beside her. Dennis drew up another stool
and watched.

Aunt Betsy looked across at him and smiled. Dennis, an orphan, lived
with her and she knew that he was often lonely. There weren't many