It was something after ten when the travellers arrived in one of the station cabs. The dwellers in the different houses had been excitedly on the lookout ever since dinner, congregating in Mrs. Laurence’s drawing-room, the women overflowing with excited sentiment, and the men, excited too, discussing the different aspects of the disaster. Minda had been overwhelmed with offers of help, and numberless dishes sent over to her for the refreshment of the wayfarers—jellies, creamed chicken, biscuit and layer cake, and many instructions given. “Be sure and have the coffee just ready to put on,” Mrs. Stone had directed, in the very kitchen itself. “Mr. Ranney will feel the need of it as well as Mrs. Ranney after all the strain he has been through; and be sure and keep the two kettles boiling. I have sent for my rubber water-bags, as well as Mrs. Spicer’s, so that in case of chill or collapse we may have enough. One cannot tell what the effect of all that terrible exposure may have been. People have had their arms and legs frozen off in a shipwreck,” said Mrs. Stone, with a slight confusion as to the time of year. The house was alight and welcoming as the carriage, its lamps leering mistily through the fog, lurched to a halt in the splashing flood by the curb; half a dozen hands were reached out to carry the sleeping children, and the luggage, and help the travellers. “Why, how kind of you all to be here!” said Mrs. Ranney’s sweet, low voice, in gentle surprise. She looked younger than one remembered as they all crowded into the little drawing-room; though her beautiful hair was slightly dishevelled under her hat, and her face was pale, her brow was as serene as ever. “Oh, we’re _so_ glad to have you back again,” cried Mrs. Spicer, with hysterical inflection, embracing the newcomer. “I don’t know what Mr. Ranney would have _done_ if you’d stayed away another day!” “Oh, no trouble about _me_,” disclaimed Mr. Ranney loftily. He deposited a bundle of shawls in the centre of the room as he spoke and took them up again restlessly. “Where do you want these put, Jean?—I told Mrs. Ranney that I could have got along without her just as well as not for another two weeks, but she wanted to get home.” “Yes, I thought I’d better,” assented Mrs. Ranney. “You’ve been through so _much_,” said Mrs. Laurence pitifully. Her hand and Mrs. Ranney’s gripped, unseen. “To be in that storm on that sinking ship, with those two babies—I can’t begin to tell you how we’ve felt about it; how anxious——” her voice broke. “Now, now, now, a little blow like that amounts to nothing,” said Mr. Ranney, with irritating contemptuousness. He had the offensive quarter-deck manner. “The passengers were transferred from one steamer to another simply for convenience in transportation. There was not the slightest danger at any time; nothing in the _world_ to be excited about!”