He reached down, plucked a fistful of grass, and mopped his forehead. In much the same way had the preacher used his bandanna handkerchief. The Lincoln family rose, sang "Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow," and church was over.
The young folks drifted away. Tom stretched out on the grass for his Sunday afternoon nap.
"Abe tells me that new Mr. Swaney was at church," Sarah said.
Tom opened his eyes. Before he had a chance to go back to sleep, she spoke again.
"He's fixing to keep a school next winter."
"So I hear," said Tom cautiously.
"He charges seventy-five cents for each scholar. Some schoolmasters charge a dollar."
"Sounds like a lot of money."
"Several of the neighbors are fixing to send their young ones," Sarah went on. "Mr. Swaney doesn't ask for cash money. He'll take skins or farm truck. We can manage that, I reckon."
Tom yawned. "Plumb foolishness, if you ask me. But Johnny and Mathilda are your young ones. If you want to send them—"