AMY
(as they group themselves in fire-glow).
Sit over here, Nancy. Isn't the corn splendid?

LINCOLN
(from where he is sitting).
Any news, Tom? How's the wolf-hunting getting on? Anybody got one?

TOM.
I heard in the store to-night that Hugh Foster had killed one. It may
be only a rumor. You're not fond of hunting, are you, Abe?

LINCOLN.
Oh, I try at it once in a while, Tom, but I'm not very keen. You boys
get more out of it than I do.

TOM.
Remember the raccoon hunt we had last summer?

LINCOLN.
Yes, I remember. (Facing about.) To tell you the truth, Tom, I don't
mind if things have to be killed outright; but I hate to see them in
cages. I like to see 'em _free_.

TOM.
I know you do, Abe.

POLLY
(merrily).