"Wishing won't do any good. I need cash money mighty bad. Remember, this farm ain't paid for yet."
He got up and walked over to the chest. He picked up the sharp knife he used for cutting corn. "Get your knife, Abe, and come along."
Abe walked behind his father along the path through the woods. "That Mr. Swaney was right nice," he said.
Tom grunted.
"He is waiting to start his school until after harvest," Abe went on. "Nat Grigsby is going. Allen Gentry is going, and he is two years older than me."
"Allen's pa is a rich man," said Tom gruffly. "Maybe he's got money to burn, but poor folks like us have to earn our keep."
"But, Pa—"
"I declare, your tongue is loose at both ends today. Can't you stop plaguing me? First your ma, then you. You ought to see I'm worried."
Abe said nothing more. He pulled a book out of the front of his shirt and began to read as he strode along the path. Tom looked back over his shoulder.
"Don't let John Carter catch you with that book."