Indeed that seemed quite the natural thing. Both were favorites. Both were different in some ways from any others, perhaps superior, and both were everybody's friends. The wonderful change in Ann, too, was a source of pleasure to all who knew her, for she had not been able to hide the disappointment and embarrassment through which she had passed.
Abe Lincoln had always been fairly happy so far as any one knew. He seemed even more happy now, and quite naturally the people charged this to Ann Rutledge, and the two words, "Ann and Abe," began to be everywhere linked together. It was not until Thanksgiving, however, that any definite announcement was made. This was at a dinner, the biggest and jolliest ever given in New Salem.
"Mother," John Rutledge had said to his wife, "the increase has been fair, but we've more than increase to be thankful for. Ann's got back to herself again. Fact, there never was a time in all her life when her singing sounded so good to me as now, and she laughs as if there were no such thing in the world as trouble. Then I'm not sorry she and Abe fixed things up. Abe Lincoln's got some future, sure as two and two make four. It does seem outside the bounds of all reason that a young backwoodsman that never went to school and has had more hard knocks than ten men generally stands up under, could ever get to be Governor of Illinois. Yet who knows—who knows?"
"John," Mrs. Rutledge answered, "you're getting visionary. Just 'cause you like Abe Lincoln uncommon well and he's going to marry our Ann ain't any sign he'll ever get to any such exalted position as Governor."
"I don't know. He's doing fairly—fairly. He's the youngest member in the Legislature. His life is before him. He's going to finish law next year, and Major Stuart says there's no man, old or young, in this state to-day that knows the Constitution like Abe Lincoln. He may never get there, but I'd not die of surprise if he did. And I'm waiting with interest to see what stand he takes down at Vandalia. But getting back to Thanksgiving, we have uncommon things to be thankful for, Abe has no home and like as not nobody ever had a dinner for him. Let Abe and Ann have a dinner and invite in some of the young people."
This plan suited Mrs. Rutledge. Abe and Ann were delighted and preparations were at once begun. There were mince and pumpkin pies, and cakes and plum pudding to be baked, and the tenderest pig and the biggest turkey on the farm were to be roasted. The cellar and store-house were raided and in the woods Ann had the good fortune to find a vine with shining leaves and blue-black berries which she twined about a great bouquet of evergreen set in a frame of shining, red apples in the middle of the table.
Abe stayed near Ann, and once when she was making pastry for jam tarts he kissed her, until in self-defense she powdered his black hair white with her flour-dusted hands, and Mrs. Rutledge laughed until she had to rest her ample body in an easy chair.
This incident was not long in getting out, for Nance, who was present, told it at singing-school, and it was passed around with as genuine a feeling of pleasure as if those telling it were themselves being kissed.
"I've been looking for just this kind of love-affair for Abe Lincoln," Hannah Armstrong said. "The kind that's taking up with everything that swings petticoats only has skin-deep cases, but there's others has bone cases. When it gets in the bone, ain't any use ever trying to get it out."