Very plain interior. Pine table at center. Split-bottom rocker near it. Two old-fashioned wooden chairs placed a few feet apart at right-front, the same at left-front. At left-rear is a pine cupboard, on the open shelves of which are some cheap earthen dishes. This cupboard must be placed so that the characters can pass behind it to reach the suggested fireplace. Several skins of animals may be tacked about the walls; a pair of deer-antlers should also be in evidence. An old-fashioned gun with powder-horn might be hung in a conspicuous position. A wool spinning-wheel would add to the old-time effect. Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah are discovered; the former, seated in the rocker, is mending a pair of ragged overalls, which, as she talks, she from time to time holds up and spreads out as if looking for holes. Sarah, at rear of stage, is sweeping vigorously. Mrs. Lincoln: Dear me, Sarah! what a dust you do kick up (_coughs_); you'll choke me to death. Sarah (_sweeping more gently_): Excuse me, but you see, the dirt is all here, and I suppose the only way to get it out _is_ to kick it up; but I'll try to be more careful. Voice (_behind scenes_): Abe, Abe, O, Abe. Mrs. Lincoln: How strange it is that I just can't teach John not to stand and call out that way. I've tried ever since he was a baby to make him go to anyone that he wants. Sarah: I suppose he thinks it doesn't matter as long as he's just calling Abe. Mrs. Lincoln: But it does matter, because it's a bad habit, and a bad habit is mighty easy to get and mighty hard to lose. I don't have a bit of trouble teaching all those things to Abe. Dear me, he's such a good, obedient boy; I don't believe he'll live to grow up (_sighs_). Sarah: O, yes he will, mother; he's too full of mischief to die; besides, he's the strongest boy for his age that there is anywhere around here. He picked Matilda and me both up yesterday and carried us clear to the woods. We kicked and screamed (_laughs_) and squirmed, but oh my! we're just like a pair of dolls to him. He set us down at the edge of the woods, then started on a run. We started too, but he was in the barn and clear at the top of the corn-stalks stacked in the mow before we were half way to the house (_laughs_). Don't worry about his dying, mother. Voice (_again_): Abe, Abe, O, Abe. Mrs. Lincoln: What shall I do with that boy? Sarah: Don't do anything. Just let him keep right on howling until he gets tired of it. Mrs. Lincoln: But I'm tired of hearing him. Sarah: Shall I go and make him keep still? (_Laughs and gesticulates._) John (_enters at right_): Where's Abe, mother? I've been calling and calling him. (_Sits in chair at right-front._) Sarah: Yes, we thought we heard something. Mrs. Lincoln: Take off your hat, my son. I do wish you didn't need telling that so often. John (_removes hat_): But I want Abe. Mrs. Lincoln: What for? John: To help me carry in the wood. There's a big storm coming. Mrs. Lincoln: Well, he isn't here.