Then she drew the chairs up to the table—and made her great discovery. “There are four chairs!” she cried aloud. “There are four of us! Why, I’m not the third person at all!” She was so overcome by this that she sat down, and stared before her with a dazed look. “There were three already—I’m the fourth, and four’s such a nice number! I can’t go away and leave Robert and Molly alone together. They’ll never be alone together any more—there’s Bobbetty. I can help so much! They’re both so very, very young, and I could do so much! Molly could have time for music. There are two buttons off Bobbetty’s underwaist. Mother-in-law, indeed!” She heard the percolator boiling too hard, and she got up. In the kitchen doorway she met Bobbetty with the bowwow. “Bobbetty!” she said. “Do you know something?” “Yes, I do!” shouted the child. But Mrs. Champney told him, anyhow. “Bobbetty,” she said, “there’s a Lucy Stone League for women who don’t want to use their husbands’ names. I believe I’ll start a Jessica Champney League for women who refuse to be called mothers-in-law. There’s really no such thing as a mother-in-law, Bobbetty. It’s just a joke, and a very nasty one. Really and truly, Bobbetty, there are nothing but mothers-in-nature. I think I’ll invent some other word. Why not ‘husbandsmother,’ or ‘wifesmother,’ or—” Molly appeared before her, evidently in great distress. “Oh, mother darling!” she cried. “You shouldn’t have done this! You shouldn’t be up so early! You’ll be tired out before you start!” Mrs. Champney stirred the oatmeal, which was bubbling and spouting like molten lava. “I don’t believe I will go,” she said. “It seems—such a waste of time. I think I’ll stay home, and help you, and be a grandmother. I’ve tried everything else, and I believe I’d do well at that.” Molly stared for a moment. Then she ran to the foot of the stairs. “Robert!” she called, in her ringing, joyous voice. “Robert! Mother’s going to stay home!” [Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 1925 issue of Munsey’s Magazine.]