"I can't, I've got to hold on to somethin'. I'm afraid of women," was the answer.
The words were whispered in her ear. The flush on Ann's face deepened. She cast a glance around the quilt. Several were now looking at her and saw that she was confused. Her one free hand was working rapidly, but the stitches were being set crooked.
For a moment or two her hand was held in its prison. Once more he whispered, "Afraid of women am I, little Ann Rutledge?"
An instant she lifted her eyes to his. He had never known they were such beautiful violet blue. They were full of appeal, and Abe Lincoln could almost see tears coming.
He dropped her hand, and crawling out from behind the quilt, presented himself before Aunt Sallie and offered his services.
"I can wash dishes, carry wood, rock the baby, do anything that's needed," he said.
"A man like you ought to have a woman," Aunt Sallie Green observed.
"I'm afraid of women," he answered, laughing with boyish merriment.
Ann's face colored again slightly, but she joined the laugh with the others.