While she was making her curtsy, Sally's cheeks suddenly grew red. "Don't let on I told you, Mr. Grigsby," Abe whispered, "but Mrs. Lincoln bakes the worst cornbread of anyone in Pigeon Creek."
Sally forgot that they were having a lesson in manners. "Don't you dare talk about my cornbread," she said angrily.
The little log room rocked with laughter. This time Master Crawford had also heard Abe's remark. He walked over to the corner where he kept a bundle of switches. He picked one up and laid it across his desk.
"We'll have no more monkeyshines," he said severely. "Go on with the introducing."
One day Abe almost got into real trouble. He had started for school early, as he often did, so that he could read one of Master Crawford's books. He was feeling sad as he walked through the woods; he seemed to miss his mother more each day. When he went into the schoolhouse, he looked up and saw a pair of deer antlers. Master Crawford had gone hunting. He had shot a deer and nailed the antlers above the door.
What a wonderful place to swing! thought Abe. He leaped up and caught hold of the prongs. He began swinging back and forth.
CRASH! One prong came off in his hand, and he fell to the floor. He hurried to his seat, hoping that the master would not notice.
But Master Crawford was proud of those antlers. When he saw what had happened, he picked up the switch on his desk. It made a swishing sound as he swung it back and forth.
"Who broke my deer antlers?" he shouted.
No one answered. Abe hunched down as far as he could on the bench. He seemed to be trying to hide inside his buckskin shirt.