Thomas: _You're_ the one that talks foolishness. You said some boys would be "glad of our chance to go to school." Helen (_coming down quickly_): Yes, and it's true, too. I heard my father telling last night about a boy living out in the woods beyond Gentryville who'd give almost anything for your chance. He's never been to school but a few months in his whole life, and-- Thomas: O, no wonder he thinks he'd like it, he doesn't know anything about it. I thought it was fun, too, when I was in the primer class. John: Yes, so did I. Helen: Well, he's beyond the primer class, I tell you. He knows the old Webster spelling book all by heart, father says. John: How'd he learn it if he hasn't been to school? Your stories don't hitch very well, Miss Preachie. Helen: He learned it all by himself, lying on the floor nights in front of the big fireplace. They are too poor to have even a grease light. Thomas: Must think a lot of that old spelling book. (_Both laugh._) Helen: Of course he thinks a lot of it. He thinks a lot of _any_ book. Father heard a man telling down at the store that this boy cut four cords of wood for some one, just to get a _piece_ of a book. John: O, wanted to read the Arabian Nights, probably. Helen: But it wasn't the Arabian Nights that he bought; it was the Life of Washington. Thomas: What's the use of _his_ reading the Life of Washington? He's nothing but poor, white trash--too poor, you say, even to have a grease light. He'll never be anybody. Helen: Don't you be too sure of that. I tell you that boy will be a great man. Some day you'll hear of him yet. John: Just because he was fool enough to cut four cords of wood for a _piece_ of a book? Thomas: Well, I'd have had the whole book or nothing. John: So would I (_sneering_). Why he was a fool. O, yes, we'll hear of him, of course. We'll read about him in the back part of the spelling book where the blank leaves are. But what's his name, do you know? Helen: Yes, father told me. His name is Abraham Lincoln: remember it, boys, for I am quite sure you will hear it again some day. Thomas: Of course we'll remember it; couldn't forget it if we tried. A boy that was as big a greeny as that. John: I tell you, Helen, the next time that you have to write one of those things which you like so well--a composition--you can write it about "The Two Cuts, or The Wood That Was Cut for a Cut Book." My! but that will be fine. (_Both laugh boisterously._) Helen: Well, you may laugh, boys, but you'll find there'll be plenty of people to write about him, and it may be it will be done while you are yet alive to read the books, and more than that-- (_Shouts heard from behind scenes._) John (_running off at right_): Come on, Tom, I hear the boys forming for "There, old cat"; we'll be too late. Thomas: But, how about your sum and my geography lesson? The teacher'll do something dreadful to us.