"What do you suppose happened to me last winter?" Mrs. Bates went on. "I
had the greatest setback of my life. I asked to join the Amateur Musical
Club. They wouldn't let me in."

"Why not?"

"Well, I played before their committee, and then the secretary wrote me a
note. It was a nice enough note, of course, but I knew what it meant. I
see now well enough that my fingers were rather stiffer than I realized,
and that my 'Twinkling Sprays' and 'Fluttering Zephyrs' were not quite up
to date. They wanted Grieg and Lassen and Chopin. 'Very well,' said I,
'just wait.' Now, I never knuckle under. I never give up. So I sent
right out for a teacher. I practised scales an hour a day for weeks and
months. Granger thought I was going crazy. I tackled Grieg and Lassen and
Chopin--yes, and Tschaikowsky, too. I'm going to play for that committee
next month. Let me see if they'll dare to vote me out again!"

"Oh, _that's_ it!" thought Jane. She was beginning to feel desirous
of meting out exact and even handed justice. She found it impossible to
withhold respect from so much grit and determination.

"But your father liked those old-time things, and so did all the other
young men." Mrs. Bates creased and folded the end of one of her long
sleeves, and seemed lapsing into a retrospective mood. "Why, some
evenings they used to sit two deep around the room to hear me do the
'Battle of Prague.' Do you know the 'Java March'?" she asked, suddenly.

"I'm afraid not," Jane was obliged to confess.