Not since Nancy died had the cabin had such a thorough cleaning.  Then came the most remarkable part of that remarkable afternoon—­the unloading of the wagon.  Sarah’s pots and pans shone from much scouring.  Her wooden platters and dishes were spotless.  And the furniture!  She had chairs with real backs, a table, and a big chest filled with clothes.  There was one bureau that had cost forty-five dollars.  Abe ran his finger over the shining dark wood.  Sarah hung a small mirror above it and he gasped when he looked at his reflection.  This was the first looking glass that he had ever seen.

Most remarkable of all were the feather beds.  One was laid on the pole bed, downstairs.  Another was placed on a clean bearskin in the opposite corner to provide a sleeping place for the girls.  The third was carried to the loft for the three boys.  When Abe went to bed that night, he sank down gratefully into the comfortable feathers.  The homespun blanket that covered him was soft and warm.

On either side, Dennis and Johnny were asleep.  Abe lay between them, wide awake, staring into the darkness.  The new Mrs. Lincoln was good and kind.  He knew that.  She had seemed pleased when Sally called her “Mamma.”  Somehow he couldn’t.  There was still a lonesome place in his heart for his own mother.

Something else was worrying him.  Before going to bed, Sarah Lincoln had looked at him and Sally out of her calm gray eyes.  “Tomorrow I aim to make you young ones look more human,” she said.  Abe wondered what she meant.

He found out the next morning.  Tom and Dennis left early to go hunting.  Abe went out to chop wood for the fireplace.  When he came back, he met the three girls going down the path.  Sally was walking between her two stepsisters, but what a different Sally!  She wore a neat, pretty dress that had belonged to Betsy.  She had on Sarah’s shawl.  Her hair was combed in two neat pigtails.  Her face had a clean, scrubbed look.  Her eyes were sparkling.  She was taking Betsy and Mathilda to call on one of the neighbors.

“Good-by, Mamma,” she called.

Sarah stood in the doorway, waving to the girls.  Then she saw Abe, his arms piled high with wood.  “Come in,” she said.  “Sally has had her bath.  Now I’ve got a tub of good hot water and a gourd full of soap waiting for you.  Skedaddle out of those old clothes and throw them in the fire.”

“I ain’t got any others.”  Abe looked terrified.

“I don’t aim to pluck your feathers without giving you some new ones.”  Sarah laughed.  “I sat up late last night, cutting down a pair of Mr. Johnston’s old pants.  I got a shirt, too, laid out here on the bed.”

Slowly Abe started taking off his shirt.  He looked fearfully at the tub of hot water.

“There’s no call to be scared,” said Sarah.  “That tub won’t bite.  Now I’m going down to the spring.  By the time I get back, I want you to have yourself scrubbed all over.”