eep up with the procession is my motto, and head it if you
can. I _do_ head it, and I feel that I'm where I belong. When I can't
foot it with the rest, let me drop by the wayside and the crows have
me. But they'll never get me--never! There's ten more good years in me
yet; and if we were to slip to the bottom to-morrow we should work
back to the top again before we finish. When I led the grand march at
the Charity Ball I was accused of taking a vainglorious part in a
vainglorious show. Well, who would look better in such a role than I,
or who has earned a better right to play it? There, child! ain't that
success? ain't that glory? ain't that poetry?--h'm," she broke off
suddenly, "I'm glad Jimmy wasn't by to hear that! He's always taking
up his poor mother."

"Jimmy? Is he humble-minded, do you mean?"

"Humble-minded? one of my boys humble-minded? No indeed; he's
grammatical, that's all: he prefers 'isn't.' Come up."

Mrs. Bates hurried her guest over the stairway and through several
halls and passages, and introduced her finally into a large and
spacious room done in white and gold. In the glittering electrolier
wires mingled with pipes, and bulbs with globes. To one side stood a
massive brass bedstead full-panoplied in coverlet and pillow-cases,
and the mirror of the dressing-case reflected a formal row of
silver-backed brushes and combs.

"My bedroom," said Mrs. Bates. "How does it strike you?"

"Why," stammered Jane, "it's all very fine, but--"

"Oh, yes; I know what they say about it--I've heard them a dozen
times: 'It's very big and handsome and all, but not a bit home-like.
_I_ shouldn't want to sleep here.' Is that the idea?"

"About," said Jane.

"Sleep here!" echoed Mrs. Bates. "I _don't_ sleep here. I'd as soon
think of sleeping out on the prairie. That bed isn't to _sleep_ in;
it's for the women to lay their hats and cloaks on. Lay yours there
now."

Jane obeyed. She worked herself out of her old blue sack, and disposed
it, neatly folded, on the brocaded coverlet. Then she took off her
mussy little turban and placed it on the sack. "What a strange woman,"
she murmured to herself. "She doesn't get any music out of her piano;
she doesn't get any reading out of her books; she doesn't even get any
sleep out of her bed." Jane smoothed down her hair and awaited the
next stage of her adventure.

"This is the way." Mrs. Bates led her through a narrow side door....
"This is my office." She traversed the