Elizabeth looked at him, a lanky barefoot boy with trousers too short. His shirt was in rags. His black hair was tousled. She sank into a chair, shaking with laughter. "A pretty President you'd make, now wouldn't you?" She had no sooner spoken than she wanted to take back the words. All of the joy went out of his face. Sally was too angry to notice. "Maybe you're going to be President," she said. "But first you'd better learn to behave." "I--I was just funning, Sally." Something in his voice made Sally look up. She saw the hurt expression in his eyes. "I know you were," she said hastily. "I'm not mad any more." Abe ate his dinner in silence. He did not seem to be the same boy who had been cutting up only a few minutes before. Elizabeth kept telling herself that she should not have laughed at him. He did try to show off sometimes. But he was a good boy. She thought more of him than of any of the other young folks in Pigeon Creek. Not for anything would she have hurt his feelings. When he pushed back his stool, she followed him out into the yard. "About your being President," she said. "I wasn't aiming to make fun of you. I just meant that you--with all your tricks and jokes--" "I reckon I know what you meant," said Abe quietly. "All the same, Mrs. Crawford, I don't always mean to delve and grub and such like." There was a look of determination on his face that she had not seen before. "I think a heap of you," she went on, "and I don't want to see you disappointed. It's a fine thing to be ambitious. But don't let reading about George Washington give you notions that can't come to anything." Abe threw back his shoulders. "I aim to study and get ready and then the chance will come." He lifted his battered straw hat, and started down the path toward the field. He walked with dignity. Elizabeth had not realized that he was so tall. "I declare," she said, "he really means it!" Sammy had come up and heard her. "Means what. Mamma?" he asked. Elizabeth took his hand. "Didn't you know, Sammy? Abe is fixing to be President some day." 9 [Illustration] On Sunday morning the Lincolns went to church. All except Sarah. She had a headache. "I'll go, Ma," said Abe. "When I come back, I'll tell you what the preacher said." Sarah smiled at him fondly. Abe could listen to a sermon, then come home and repeat it almost word for word. "I'd rather hear you preachify," she said, "than the preacher himself." Tom and his family walked single file into the log meeting house and took their places on one of the long wooden benches. John Carter, sitting on the bench in front of them, turned and nodded. Carter had promised to buy the Lincolns' south field. He would have the papers ready for Tom to sign on Monday. Tom needed the money, but the very thought of selling any of his land made him grumpy. He twisted and turned on the hard wooden bench during the long sermon. He hardly heard a word that the preacher was saying.