The early autumn twilight had fallen before what Martha Slawson would have called their _conflab_ ended. While Mr. Ronald was giving orders for the motor to be brought around, his little wife displayed the wonderful baby, and Katherine, holding the tiny soft creature to her cheek, suddenly felt her heart melt toward that other tiny creature, not so soft, but almost as helpless, who was sitting solitary and alone in the chill and dreariness of what she called, by courtesy, _home_. *CHAPTER XIV* Martha found an almost disorganized household when she got home. "Say, this is never goin’ to do in the world!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "I got to pull you all up with a round turn. The whole raft of you, from Ma down, needs a good whackin’ into shape. Say, Ma, what you sittin’ there whimperin’ for? You look as if you’d lost your last enemy, an’ had nobody left to take any comfort out of. I wouldn’t put it before you to be yearnin’ for the gayety o’ little old New York again. That so?" Ma drew in her lips plaintively. "No, it ain’t so. I’m contented here, enough, only—— ’Tis not the same place at all when you’re not in it. Never a one o’ them to think o’ drawin’ me a cuppertee, nor set a match to the fire, when the wind is blowin’ that chill, it’s enough to rattle the teeth in your jaws. When I feel cold, I feel—_poor_!" She began to cry. "Now, Ma, you stop that, double-quick, or, you may take it from me, I’ll give you something to cry _for_. I’m as cross as your grandmother’s worsted-work. I could bite the head off a tenpenny nail. Keep out o’ my way, everybody, till I get my house lookin’ like a house again, an’ my fam’ly in order, so’s they’ll have the appearance o’ civilized human bein’s, no matter what they reely are. Cora, you set the kettle on, while Sammy an’ me goes down cellar to start a little fire in the furnace, to take the chill out o’ the air an’ the grouch out o’ Ma. Francie, while you’re restin’ run down to the store an’ get me a pound o’ tea—I see there ain’t a leaf left in the caddy. You can take Sabina along for comp’ny, only don’t forget to bring her back. We might need her for somethin’ sometime. You never can tell. For goodness’ sake! Is that rack-a-bones Flicker Slawson? Well, what do you think o’ that! I bet there ain’t been one o’ you ever thought to give’m, or Nix either, a sup or a bite, since I been gone! Such a measly-appearin’ dog an’ cat, _I_ never see. I’m ashamed to look’m in the face." As she talked, Martha passed from room to room, tidying up, straightening out, getting the household wheels back into their accustomed grooves and, all the while, unconsciously transforming the atmosphere of the place, and the persons in it, until they reflected her own wholesome, vital air of well-being, well-doing.