"Yes, Abraham Lincoln. There's something I want to say to you before you go away. I've been holding it against you—but I want to tell you that I forgive you."
"Forgive me!" he said in astonishment. "What did I ever do to you that I should need forgiveness for?"
"Don't you remember the quilting-bee?" she asked, her face flushing slightly.
"And you forgive me?"—he asked the question seriously. Then he laughed. "Don't forgive. Forgiveness might tempt me to do it again. Just remember as I go away that I'm not afraid of wolves or bears or catamounts or snakes or Indians, or any living creature—except women. It's women I'm afraid of," and he laughed.
The flush yet showed on Ann's face and her voice was a bit unsteady as she said, "And there's something else."
"What is it, Ann?"
"I—I don't want anything to harm you. I want you to come back sound and well."
There was pleading in her eye and a hint of quaver in her voice.
Abe Lincoln regarded her thoughtfully a moment. Her blue eyes did not shift before his steady gaze.